


Lying is the most fun a girl can have...

by sdeubanks



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdeubanks/pseuds/sdeubanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maggie is dealing with the mistakes of her past while trying to move forward with her life. An old flame reappears, threatening her resolve, while a new boy threatens to reveal all her secrets. It's just one more year until graduation, Maggie isn't sure she can make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hello baby,”

My entire body tenses as I feel Charlie behind me, his warm chest against my back. Too close.

“You can’t be here,” I whisper as his hand slips around my upper arm.

“I know baby, but I saw you here and had to come over. I’ve missed you.” A lie. He doesn’t miss me, he misses controlling me.

“If that were true you would have visited me in the hospital or came to see me this past year.”

“I couldn’t baby, you know Rick got that restraining order after the wreck. He wouldn’t have hesitated to arrest me.” My step dad Rick hates Charlie with a passion and I know Charlie is right, but it does nothing ease the sting his abandonment has inflicted. With a sigh I shake my head and take a step away. Charlie’s grip on my upper arm turns into a vice, “Stay where you are,” I try to pull away but he jerks me back, head bent to whisper in my ear, “Try that again and you’ll regret it.”

This is the Charlie I know, the Charlie I had mistakenly fallen in love with two years ago. “Why do you always have to test me Maggie? Come on,” he pulls me out of the crowd and to an empty bedroom on the same floor just off the living room. I knew better than to come to a party at a University frat, but Ali had sworn he wouldn’t be here, that I would be safe. She was wrong.

Charlie shuts the door behind us and releases me so he can lock the door. I look around and realize we’re in his room, pictures of his family and even one of me and him on his dresser next to me. He turns and I feel that familiar pang of fear and love that I used to feel every time I saw him. He is beautiful, short, dark brown hair, dark blue eyes, tall, muscular, a modern day Clark Kent. When I had first met him my sophomore year of high school I had nearly swooned, but that was before I knew what hid behind those gorgeous features. I had suffered for a year, not realizing how wrong he was until the fateful night that forced us apart. Charlie takes a step towards me and I flinch as his arms raise, but he just pulls me into a gentle hug, a hand on my hair, smoothing it, his lips pressing against the top of my head. I hate that I have to fight not to sink into his familiar embrace. A year apart and I am just as susceptible, just as willing to ignore all of his wrongs.

No. It is different now. I am stronger. I still want him, but now I know better.

I push against his chest and he releases me.

“I should go,” I murmur and make myself take a step towards the door.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” I stiffen, he always knew just what to say to get to me. I take a deep breath,

“That doesn’t matter, you don’t love me.”

“Bullshit. I’ve loved you for two years Mags,” a smooth lie. I just shake my head and reach for the door.

“Mags,” a plea, then,

“Maggie,” it was a warning.

I ignore him and unlock the door, getting it open a few inches before Charlie slams it shut with an open palm, his other hand gripping the back of my neck. He pulls me away from the door and I gasp in pain as his fingers dig in. He lets go like I’ve burned him and shuts his eyes, hands curling into fists. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly and when his eyes open they are calm, gentle, “I’m sorry baby.” He takes a step towards me but I back away making a flash of annoyance cross his face, “Sweetheart, come here,” another step forward and another step back. My legs hit his bed and a bloom of panic blossoms in my chest,

“Charlie please,” he is close, his body pressing against mine, pushing me towards the bed.

“Don’t you love me anymore Maggie?” I try to push him away but he catches my hands and jerks me tighter against him, “Do you want it rough Maggie? You used to like that.” I flush with shame and Charlie grins, “You remember don’t you baby?” and presses his lips to my neck. I try to pull back,

“Charlie stop,” and he grips my wrists too tight. I can feel the bones creak,

“Don’t tell me what to do,” and he tries to kiss me but I turn away. He shifts his hold to grip my wrists with one large hand, the other going to my hair, fisting in it and turning my face back, “You’ve gotten into bad habits while we’ve been apart, I’ll have to fix that,” and he kisses me. He tastes like beer, and I refuse to kiss him back so he shoves me hard, releasing my wrists. I land on the bed and kick out as he leans over me. He grunts in pain as I make contact, but pins my legs easily considering he is nearly sixty pounds heavier, “Stop fighting me Maggie,” I shove his face away. The ensuing slap hurts, a lot, “I said stop!” His hand goes down to the button of my jeans and I squirm. Charlie gives a sigh of exasperation. A year ago I would have begged for this, we both know it. My fighting is a shock to him. Charlie’s hand encircles my throat and he squeezes gently, “I swear to god if you keep resisting me I will knock you out and fuck you anyway.” His voice is full of venom and I believe him, all the fight draining out of me. He gives me a disgustingly sweet smile and lets go of my neck, “That’s better. I’ll make sure you enjoy it baby, I always do.” He isn’t lying about that either and I feel bile rising in my throat as he unzips my jeans, his hand sliding inside as he presses his lips to my jaw.

The door to the bedroom bursts open and a breeze fill of cigarette smoke, beer and the sounds from the party come in. “Oh, sorry,” Charlie jerks up, eyes on whoever has opened the door and I struggle out from underneath him. The guy at the door doesn’t leave and I take the opportunity to zip my jeans and escape. Charlie’s hand grabs for me but I jerk away and rush past the guy at the door, head down, and don’t stop until I get outside and to my best friend’s BMW, the fresh autumn air clearing my head.

What have I just let happen, almost happen? I should have told Charlie no in the living room before he could get me alone. I know better. How could I be so stupid? I’ve managed to avoid Charlie and keep our past a secret for a year and I almost screwed it up. I won’t testify against him. I refuse to spend weeks in a courthouse divulging all my mistakes, being hounded by the local papers, and receiving looks of pity and disgust. I won’t do it. I just have to be more careful. Avoid the U as best I can, keep my distance.

I keep mentally berating myself as I try to think of what to do next. I can’t go back into the party, Charlie would look for me. Ali is inside though, but getting her would mean telling her Charlie had approached me, which would be followed by a huge scene. My step dad is definitely out of the question. He has just started letting me spend weekends with Ali again, if he knows I’m at a college party, especially one Charlie is at, I’ll be grounded until I leave for college next fall.

Shit.

I settle for texting Ali’s phone, telling her I’m ready to go and am waiting outside. I’m not big into partying anymore, so she shouldn’t get too suspicious. I settle onto the curb next to her car and get ready for a long wait, Ali is a party queen, and since her long term boyfriend Toby is here too, I don’t expect them for at least another hour. I sigh and press my forehead against my knees, feeling rotten. Footsteps scrap next to me and I tense, peeking through my hair to see legs clad in dark jeans and Adidas tennis shoes. Whoever it is sits a respectful distance away and pulls out a cigarette and lighter. Internally I let out a breath of relief, it isn’t Charlie. For one he doesn’t smoke, and this guy is thinner with shaggy dark blonde hair.

“You good?” I start at his voice, this is the guy opened the bedroom, and raise my head to look at him. He is watching at me and I realize I know him. Oliver Stein. He had been co-captain with Charlie on the swim team their senior year. He and I had had a conversation or two over the year Charlie and I had dated. His hair is longer and he apparently smokes, but he still looks the same, tan with a light dusting of freckles, grey/green eyes and a strong, comforting presence. I make myself smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” There is an awkward silence as he seems to accept my words. I take a deep breath, forcing my voice to be cheerful, “How have you been?” He shrugs and lights his cigarette, blowing smoke.

A few girls walk by in impossible short skirts and sparkly tops, one of them waving to Oliver, giving him a sly smile. He nods in return, eyes barely registering her. I can’t help but feel a little amusement as she scowls at me as if I matter. As if Oliver is remotely interested in me. I stifle a hysterical chuckle. Jesus what was wrong with me? I scoff at myself and shake my head, making Oliver raise an eyebrow,

“You don’t approve of miniskirts?” I laugh,

“Scourge of a woman’s closet. Uncomfortable, useless, and undoubtedly designed by a man.” I’m rewarded with a chuckle and Oliver shaking his head at my ridiculous answer. He takes another drag of cigarette and lets out the smoke with a sigh,

“I must confess they do look uncomfortable, however, they do wonders for girl’s legs. I can’t really complain.” I roll my eyes and he gives a quick grin, all teeth. He takes a few more drags of his cigarette as we sit in a fairly comfortable silence. I let out a little sigh and lean back on my hands, head back, looking at the night sky. “So you need a ride home?” I blink and turn my face towards him,

“Nah, I’m waiting for Ali.”

“Alison Henderson?” I nod and he chuckles, “If I remember correctly you may be waiting a while. I don’t mind really, I’m heading out anyway, party was a bust. Frat ones usually are.” He has a point, Ali is notorious for getting too drunk to drive or too distracted with Toby, who is a freshman at the U this semester.

“It’s okay, I can wait, and I’m used to it.” He shrugs,

“Alright, but wait inside at least, it isn’t safe to be alone on the street, and it is getting cold.” I shrug. Oliver stands and when I don’t he hesitates, “Hey, you hungry? There is a 24 hour diner less than a mile, you could wait for Ali there.” I smile, unable to help teasing him,

“You asking me out?” Oliver scoffs,

“Considering I just found you in Charlie’s bedroom fifteen minutes ago, no. He’s not good at sharing.” I can feel my face flush bright red, all humor gone, and I look away from him, hands clenching into fists,

“Right.”

“I didn’t mean…I just-“

“We aren’t together.”

“Well considering you were in bed…”

“That was a mistake.”

Oliver is quiet and I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, unclenching my fists.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, I guess I got the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, you did.” My tone is sharp and I close my eyes, trying to get my emotions under control. It isn’t his fault. It’s obvious what he thought, obvious what it looked like. God, tonight is going terrible.

“Right, well…I guess I’ll see you around then.” I open my eyes to see Oliver has his hands shoved into his jean pockets, looking uncomfortable. I wearily give him a two finger salute, mouth in a thin line,

“Sure thing.” Oliver just nods, eyes straying to the frat house behind us. I wait for him to leave, fingers toying with the leaves at my feet.

“You know, if you were worried about the people in there-”

“I’m not.”

“But if you were. If you wanted to get out of here, my offer still stands.”

I sigh and turn and look up at him only to turn back when I see he is watching at me like he understands, like he knows. I swallow hard and don’t have to try to make my voice small as I lie, “It wasn’t…I just haven’t seen him in a long time and I…”

“You realized it isn’t the same.” I smile sadly,

“Not at all. I thought I was okay with it, but…”

“Hey, it’s cool. I’m sorry I was so blunt about it. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s fine. I was already embarrassed. I’m not like that, going to bedrooms…” I hate how juvenile and naïve I sound, but Oliver nods and kneels beside me,

“Hey, it’s okay, I know that. Anyone who’s met you knows that. Besides, it wasn’t some guy, it was Charlie. You guys dated a while, I understand.”

He understands. I resist the urge to shake my head, he’ll never understand. But if he wants to think I’m a silly love struck high school girl getting over her first love then so be it. I won’t correct him. Whatever makes him think this whole thing was innocent. I almost feel bad as I give him a trembling smile, as if I’m close to tears, “Thanks,” I let out a nervous laugh, “God, listen to me, I’m being ridiculous. Ugh,” I push myself to my feet and run a hand through my hair, “So, you said something about food?”


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out he still drives the same old Dodge truck he had in high school and as he clears out the passenger seat he smiles apologetically, “Sorry, no one is ever in here.” I just shrug and pull myself into the cab. Once I’m settled and buckled in Oliver turns the key and the engine roars to life, along with his radio which is blasting death metal of some form or another. We both wince and he jams his finger on the eject button on the cd player, “Sorry, sorry, I forgot that was in there.” He reaches over me for the glove compartment and I have to resist the urge to flinch. He pulls out a cd case and stores the affronting music away then gestures to the glove compartment, “Pick out whatever you’d like.”

I pull out a few cd’s and sort through them in the amber glow of the street lights as Oliver puts the truck into gear and pulls away from the curb. I find a band I recognize and open the case to remove the treasure inside. I slide it into the cd player and toss the case back into the glove compartment before I push it closed.

_“_ _It's funny how your worst enemies always seem to turn out to be all of your best friend's best friends But I folded and I told These aren't things I saved to sing you but I folded, I told So draw or throw and I will explode”_

Oliver glances over at me in surprise then turns up the volume, head bobbing in rhythm. As I hum along I watch the dark scenery as we head closer to the center of town and further away from the fraternity. We are to the diner before the second songs even finishes and by some unspoken accord we sit in the dark cab, allowing it to play out.

_“Tell all the English boys you meet about the American boy back in the states The American boy you used to date who would do anything you say”_

As the final chords fade, Oliver pulls his keys out of the ignition and we are suddenly awash in light from the dome light, the silence louder than the music. I give him a tight smile and unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door to get out. I shut the door and pull out my phone, shooting Ali a quick text before shoving it back into my pocket and walking around the side of the truck to join Oliver. We walk into the diner and a waitress tells us to sit wherever we’d like. We choose a booth by the window and she brings us menus and takes our drink orders. Once she leaves, the silence creeps back between us and we busy ourselves by looking at the menus. When she comes back we still haven’t said a word to each other. I order a grilled cheese and fries. Oliver gets a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. When the waitress is gone I find myself staring out of the window instead of trying to start a conversation. To my relief Oliver pulls out is cell, not the least bit perturbed. A few minutes later I’m watching the traffic light on the corner change for the third time when my phone vibrates on the table in front of me. I pick it up to see it is a text from Ali and mentally prepare myself.

*Ur srsly having dinner with Oliver fucking Stein right now?*

I choke back a laugh and Oliver looks up, eyebrow raising along with on side of his mouth, giving him a subtlety sexy smirk. I can feel my eyes widen in horrific embarresment at that thought. Tonight is not the night to being having innapropriate thoughts about a boy. I need to get a hold of myself.

*Yes, although I don’t think that that is actually his middle name. Just come get me when you are ready.*

She responds in less than ten seconds,

*Fine, be that way, but I expect all the deets when I get there. See you in 30?*

*There are no deets to tell. That sounds good. :)*

I put my phone done with a rueful shake of my head. Poor Ali, she really thinks this is a date. Little does she know why it is really happening. I’ll tell her of course. Not about the attempted assault, but about seeing Charlie and him pulling away to be alone. She will be appropriately outraged and will be on a tirade for the rest of the night. It is like clockwork anytime she hears about Charlie. She knows the bare minimum; that he was controlling, possessive, and I was hopelessly in love with him. I sigh at myself and Oliver puts away his phone and sits forward,

“Was that Ali?” I smile and nod,

“Yep, she is quite sure that this is a date. It will take me all night to convince her otherwise.” Oliver laughs,

“I hope she knows better than to think I’d take you here for a date. I may be a guy in college, but I’m not a Neanderthal. I prefer to take a girl to a place without a value menu.” My smile grows,

“Oh I don’t know, I think this place has its charms. Besides, it isn’t about the place, it is about who you are with. You could take me to a random taco stand, and as long as you treat me well and buy me like six tacos it won’t even occur to me it isn’t fancy.”

Oliver grins and shakes his head, “I’ll take that into consideration. Now tell me, does every girl require the six tacos rule, or are you a special case?”

The rest of dinner goes this way, with little quips and ridiculous boasts and dating tips. I haven’t laughed this much in a long time with anyone other than Ali, it is a little surreal. We pay for our meals and head outside to wait for Ali who is, big surprise, late. Oliver opens the tailgate of his truck and we sit side by side, not touching, but a comfortable distance apart. Oliver pulls out a pack of cigarettes from seemingly nowhere and offers me one. I haven’t smoked since Charlie and I broke up, but the first inhale goes down smooth like I’ve never stopped. I release the smoke with a little thrum of contentment and Oliver gives me that smirk again. I find myself looking away before I act rashly and open my fat mouth to tell him what I think about that smirk and take another drag of the cigarette in my hand. When I look back Oliver is still looking at me, the smirk still there, but adorned with a more quizzical expression.

“What?” He just shrugs and I scrunch my face, “No, seriously, what?” He gives me a good natured sigh,

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“And that requires leering at me?” He laughs,

“I was not leering, and I’m thinking about you, so yeah. I guess it requires me to leer.”

“I thought you weren’t leering?” I’m smiling again and Oliver rolls his eyes,

“I was just thinking about earlier, and what you said.”

“What? About girls not needing fancy things?”

“No. About how what I saw wasn’t what I thought it was.”

I can feel my smile slide right off my face and I look away, taking another inhale of cigarette and holding it in as long as I can. I let it out with a sigh and turn back to find Oliver studying his feet, “I just…I’m sorry I assumed-”

“It’s okay, I know exactly what it looked like. I don’t blame you.” Oliver nods then hesitates, as if he is trying to find the right thing to say,

“Maggie, if it wasn’t what I thought it was, if it wasn’t sex…Then what was it?”

I freeze, my mind going into a blind panic trying to think of the right thing to say. Oliver places a gentle hand on my knee, “Did Charlie…I mean was he coercing you? Using your past to talk you into it?” I won’t look at him and he seems to take this as answer. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, blows smoke then asks, “Did he hurt you?”

“No!” My response is loud and vehement, startling us both. “God, sorry. No. He didn’t hurt me. He is just a smooth talker you know? When he pulled me in there I had no intention of doing anything then he was saying things and kissing me, and you know, it was almost like old times. I feel like such an idiot.”

Oliver is nodding along and I realize his hand is still on my knee. He seems to realize it at the same time and he jerks away, a red flush I can just make out from the streetlight creeping up his neck, “Sorry,” He runs a hand through his hair, “And I’m sorry about earlier, I was really harsh. I know how Charlie can be, it wasn’t your fault.” I shrug and give him a tight smile,

“It’s fine, really. He and I are just done. We’ve been done for over a year. Tonight was a mistake I don’t plan on letting happen ever again.” Oliver nods again,

“Good, I’m glad,” He blanches, “I don’t mean good good. More like you sound like your mind is made up.” I stare at him as he stammers, “I mean if that is what you really want...”

“It is.” Ali’s BMW pulls into the parking lot before I can say anything else and Oliver seems relieved. She puts it in park and rolls down her window,

“Mags are you _smoking_?”

Too late I flick the evidence away from me and to the asphalt, jumping from the tailgate and squashing its traitorous red glow,

“Nope.” I turn to Oliver, “Thanks for the meal. I had a good time.” He smiles,

“No problem. I’ll see you around.”

I’m around Ali’s car and in the passenger seat before Oliver is off the tailgate. I fasten my seatbelt as Ali pulls out of the diner parking lot and onto the street and start mentally count to ten, waiting for her to start asking questions. I don’t make it to five.

“So…You and Oliver huh?” I sigh,

“No, not me and Oliver. There is no me and Oliver. It was just food.”

“Yeah but why were you getting food in the first place? What made you two decide to ditch the party and get food?” She keeps glancing at me in the dark, I know because I can see her face turning back and forth as we pass the streetlights. I take a deep breath,

“Because he rescued me from Charlie,” I hear her gasp, “He cornered me in his room. We kissed.”

“You kissed Charlie!?” I wince,

“It was a mistake. I wasn’t exactly planning on it. Anyway Oliver happened by and distracted Charlie and I went outside and he came out after to check on me. I couldn’t get ahold of you and he didn’t want to leave me alone outside so we got food.” Ali is quiet for a while and I close my eyes, wishing most of the night hadn’t happened.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“I mean this is the first time you’ve seen Charlie since the wreck. Are you okay?” I don’t answer for a minute,

“I think so. It was…overwhelming at first. You know all those feelings came back even though I should know better,”

“Oh Mags, you loved him, of course you will have residual feelings,”

“I know, I just hate it. But it doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again. I have no intentions of ever seeing Charlie again if I can help it.”

“Good,” I can hear her grin as she says, “So Oliver was looking pretty fine tonight,” and I know I’m in the clear. I laugh but don’t offer a response and we lapse into a comfortable silence, the ugliness of the night over.

Ali spends the rest of the drive and evening filling me in on gossip from the party. Who was kissing who, and which couple broke up. I fall asleep to her cheerful chatter, a half smile on my face. Maybe tonight wasn’t so awful after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning I have five round, little bruises on my left arm from where Charlie grabbed me. I borrow some of Ali’s concealer before she wakes up. Just like the old days. Considering some tiny bruises is all I have from last night I consider myself lucky. You don’t put yourself alone with a bear in its cage and expect it not to do something. That is just stupid of you and disrespectful to the bear. I saw Charlie on his turf, I can accept a few bruises as penance for my mistake, especially since I never plan to let it happen again. Ali’s parents are away at some conference, something my step-father does not know, so I go downstairs to make Ali and myself some breakfast. I love my best friend, but she cannot cook to save her life. I turn on Spotify on my phone and crank the volume, dancing to Jet as I make pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast.

Breakfast is nearly ready when a bleary eyed Ali comes trudging down the stairs. She sits at the breakfast bar and raises and eyebrow,

“Well you’re in a good mood this morning. Any particular reason?”

“Nope.”

I put a plate piled high with food in front of her along with a cup of coffee, more cream and sugar than coffee, and two aspirin. She tosses back the aspirin with a gulp of coffee and smiles,

“I love you.”

We lay around most of the morning before deciding to go to the mall downtown and do some window shopping that will most likely turn into regular shopping if Ali gets her way. She always asks what the point of me having a job is if I don’t spend the money I earn. Trying to explain the fine art of saving money is always lost on Ali. She lifeguards at the gym I work at on occasion and always manages to blow her check within a day. It certainly helps that her parents are solidly upper middle class with nice cars and a vacation home in South Carolina. My stepdad is a Sheriff and while he makes a decent living, going on a vacation requires careful saving. I suppose if I really wanted, I could ask my mother for money, but that would involve actually talking to her. I’d rather have a job.

The mall is ‘Saturday during the school year’ crowded, with people everywhere. We see a few people we know and stop to chat, but for the most part we keep to ourselves. It is my fault really. After the ‘incident’ the summer after sophomore year, I retreated into myself and Ali came along for the ride. She cut out most of her friends and spent a majority of her time with me. Junior year had been an adjustment for her. A lot less parties and after school activities other than cheerleading and a lot more time in my bedroom doing homework and watching John Hughs movies. The plus side was, her GPA going into senior year is much higher than it would have been.

Her devotion is one of the reasons I went to the party last night. I feel like I owe her. Before Charlie, and even during, I was just as much of a party girl, up for anything and totally care free. But after the wreck and the realization that Charlie wasn’t who I thought he was, I got a little jaded. It certainly didn’t help that there were some ridiculously hurtful rumors flying around about what had actually happened that night. Mostly they insisted that everything was my fault. I was a slut, a cheater, a fake. It shouldn’t have surprised me really, Charlie was the co-captain of a state winning swim team and I was a no body. A cute little sophomore with a few regional dance trophies and a popular boyfriend. Without Charlie I was nothing, was no one. Things never got physical, but the verbal bullying lasted for the first half of junior year, but when I refused to be goaded into saying anything, the girls laid off, deciding to pretend I didn’t exist at all. It was a little lonely and more than a little hurtful, but I survived, and now I only have 8 months of school and the summer before I can be free of this place. Ali has already decided to go to the U, so I’ve sent applications to a few colleges within four hours of here for her. A few more were sent to the West Coast, hail marys that will probably never happen, but I felt that I had to try. I need a fresh start, and I’m so close I can taste it.

After shopping, and it did turn into shopping, Ali and I head back to her house to waste the rest of the weekend in teenage bliss with sodas, carb filled snacks, and reruns of Gilmore Girls. By the time I get back home Sunday night, I’ve all but repressed the memory of Charlie to the back of my mind. My stepdad is on the couch, beer in hand, ESPN on the tv. I plop down next to him and he throws an arm over my shoulders and plants a kiss to the top of my head,

“Have a good weekend kid?”

“Yep. We went shopping yesterday, got some new jeans and some very cute nail polish.” Rick laughs,

“Excellent. You hungry?” I shrug,

“I could eat. You want pizza or chinese?”

“Pizza please, extra-”

“Cheese, I know.”

He always asks for extra cheese on his pizza, has since I met him. It used to make me feel grown up to order the food when I was younger. I would write it all down and dutifully read it to whatever person was on the other side of the line. After a while, I realized we always ordered the same thing once mom was gone. She was the one who had insisted on changing things up, keeping it healthy, or really pigging out. When she left, Rick and I had eaten out a lot, and it turned out we always got the same thing. Pepperoni and sausage pizza with extra cheese, a liter of Pepsi, and two orders of breadsticks no sauce.

Once I make the call I take my bag upstairs to unpack and get into comfy clothes. As I’m throwing my clothes into the washer I pull out the outfit I had been wearing Friday night and hesitate. I put them to the side and finish loading the washer and turn it on. Walking back through the kitchen to the living room I throw them into the trashcan, shoving them down deep where Rick won’t see them. I get a little twinge of guilt like I used to and take a deep breath. This is the last time. The doorbell rings and I walk to the front door, pasting a smile on my face.

This is the last time.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The gym that I work is pretty large. They have a weight room, dance studios, karate spaces, gymnastics, an indoor pool, a boxing ring, and a basketball court. They host adult intramural sports, kiddie camps, and gymnastics competitions. It was how Ali and I met when my mom and I had first moved to Virginia when I was ten. She had put me into dance and gymnastics afterschool since she worked until six most nights at an orthodontist’s office on main street as a receptionist. Seven and a half years later and I am still here afterschool, but to teach instead of learn, and Rick picks me up after class, not my mother.

I teach a beginners and intermediate dance class ages 3 to 12. Once they are in seventh grade, and sometimes even before that, they either quit taking classes, or move on to more experienced teachers. I co teach with my former instructor Ms. Neal Mon-Fri 4-6pm. On some weekends we have one on one instruction with the more serious students that are four hour blocks. I love it.

I started teaching the beginning of junior year when Ms. Neal asked if I would be her assistant. It was three months after the ‘incident’ and I was still on crutches from the wreck, but Ms. Neal insisted I didn’t have to be able to dance to teach. She said I had an eye for movement and choreography. It got me out of the house, something Rick had been desperate for when he realized I was slipping away from him into depression. He was there to pick me up after every class, and it was a big part of what got me out of my own head and helped me to recover. I was still ‘grounded until I was 25’, but I could tell he was happy that I was showing signs of the girl I used to be, even if that girl had lied about drinking and going to parties.

Fast forward to a year later and I’m still teaching, still loving it, and applying to colleges and schools with choreography tracks. A lot of them require taking dance classes, something I worry about, but Ms. Neal insists I will be able to do. I used to be a decent dancer, and with the right program, I could have easily been very good, something Ms. Neal, Rick, and I had been looking into before the wreck had broken my leg in three places and cracked my pelvis. Now I’m just a tolerable dancer with a bad hip. Still, I’ve worked hard to get back to where I am, and I push myself, hoping some school will take pity on the half cripple and let her into their program.

I’m leaving my intermediate class a week or so after the party at the frat when I hear someone say,

“Now this is just sad.”

I turn to see Oliver leaning over the top rope of the boxing ring, soaked in sweat, shirtless, and with a big grin on his face. It is a feat to keep my eyes on his face, but I do,

“What is?” He gestures at me,

“This, you pretending to work here just so you can see me again.” I laugh and if possible, his grin gets bigger, “So what do you teach? I think I saw girls in leotards come out before you?”

I hitch my gym bag a little higher on my shoulder, “Dance class. We were doing basic ballet today.” Oliver’s eyes widen in surprise,

“Dance. I never would have guessed. You are just full of surprises.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well yeah, I don’t know very many dancers who can devour six tacos a date.”

My laugh is from deep in my stomach and feels fantastic. God, this guy. Oliver slips out of the ring and covers the space between us in a few strides. My laughter subsides just as he gets to me. I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his right ribs before I have to look up to see his face. He is standing pretty close. My mirth is slipping away as he stands there not saying anything, “What?” He just does his sexy smirk,

“Nothing,” I take a step back,

“Well, I’m going to head home, I’ll see you around.” Oliver doesn’t move, just keeps watching me,

“Sure.”

I’m out of the gym and heading towards the police station a few blocks away when Oliver catches up with me. He calls my name and I turn. Thankfully he has managed to find a shirt though his feet are bare. I wait for him to catch up then wait for him to speak, which takes longer than it should since he isn’t even winded.

“Yes?” He chews his lip for a second,

“You want to go out sometime?”

I stare at him. Did he actually just ask me that? “You mean like a date?” He shrugs,

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I had a good time the other night. Figured we could do it again. I’ll even pay this time.” I take a step away and I can see the hope die in his eyes,

“I don’t know. I had a good time but-”

“You aren’t interested in me like that.” His voice is flat and I shrug,

“I like you and I’m grateful for the other night, but I really am trying to focus on school right now and my stepdad is pretty against me dating again before college…” I trail off and Oliver just nods,

“Sure. Glad I could help,” and turns back to the gym before I can respond. I let him go, calling him back now wouldn’t help anything. He thinks I used him and to be honest I did, I just didn’t expect to like him so much afterward. He was always nice in high school, but we never interacted one on one more than a handful of times while I was waiting on Charlie or Oliver was giving us both a ride home when Charlie was drunk. I didn’t even see Oliver the month before school ended. His mother had committed suicide and the school had allowed him to take his finals and get his diploma early and not walk at graduation. Besides I was too wrapped up in Charlie and keeping him happy to bother worrying about Oliver. It is awful to say, but it is true.

As I walk to the police station I wonder if Oliver has dated anyone since high school. There is potential I was the first girl he’s asked out in over a year and I’d shot him down immediately. I push the thought from my mind. Oliver is funny and attractive, there is no doubt he probably has a line of girls waiting for him at the U, ready whenever he is. This line of thought makes me feel both better and worse. I do like Oliver, as much as I hesitate to admit it. He is funny and nice and very attractive…but I need to focus on leaving here, not making more reasons to stay. My mind is decided by the time I open the front door of the police station and see Rick waiting for me at the front desk.

“Ready to get out of here kid?”

“You have no idea.”


	5. Chapter 5

I see Oliver once or twice over the next two weeks, but we don’t really acknowledge each other and it suits me just fine. I haven’t told Ali he asked me out. She would insist that I do it, and I don’t think I can handle it right now. Besides, Rick would never say yes. So I do my best to push thoughts of Oliver from my mind and pretty well succeed until Ali convinced me to come to this sorority party at the U. It’s October now and getting cool at sundown but I forget about that when I see Oliver on the front porch of the house chatting up some blonde in a crop top and long skirt. I avert my eyes, and Ali pulls me inside, walking right past them. I swear I can feel his eyes on my back.

As a rule, most sorority parties are calmer and better organized that frat parties. The bedrooms are locked, the living room is where you dance, the keg is in the kitchen, you clean up your own puke, and they are over by 3am. Of course there are exceptions to this, but not at this party and I have always found I prefer these types of party. I like a little order with my chaos. Once we are inside Ali disengages from me and immediately attaches to her boyfriend Toby, a six foot two, lean, black guy with nice dreads. I’ve decided their children will be beautiful. I follow behind them to the kitchen where they get beer and I get a water. I then follow them to the dining room where a game of spin the bottle, of all the games in all the world it had to be this, is taking place. Ali squeals in delight and pulls us into the circle, which adjusts to fit us in. the girl to boy ratio is off so I end up chastely kissing three girls before a guy in glasses and a polo lands on me and I lean across the circle to receive a kiss. It isn’t revolting, but I really don’t like this game and wait a turn or two to excuse myself so I don’t hurt the guy’s feelings.

Ali and Toby find me people watching in the living room twenty minutes later and pull me onto the dance floor. Ours is an odd dynamic. Ali and I dance with each other while Toby dances close enough to us to ward off other males. Occasionally he and Ali with attach to one another and I have to do the dancing alone thing and turn away so I don’t have to watch them grind and make out. I’m starting to work up a sweat when I feel someone come up behind me. I resist the urge to freeze, instead widening my eyes at Ali, who sees me and looks up and over my shoulder to see who has invaded my space. Her eyes widen and a small, sly smile pulls on her lips and she just turns away from me to wrap her arms around Toby’s neck. Okay. So obviously whoever it is isn’t hideous or have the look of a serial killer. I swallow, turn, and find I have to look up. Right into Oliver’s smirking face. Uh-oh.

He takes a swallow of his beer then his hands go to my waist and I look away from his face. What is he playing at? He pulls me a little closer and my hands go up to catch myself and end up on his chest, his cotton t-shirt soft under my fingers. Speaking of fingers, his flex on my hips and my stomach gives a little traitorous clench of excitement. I swallow hard and stare at my hands on his chest. Fingers slide under my chin and lift my face up to look at him so I turn instead, not really wanting to see what is in his eyes. I realize my mistake immediately as his body is now pressed firmly against mine. Ali’s smile is absolutely salacious as she looks us up and down and gives me a wink. I’m pretty sure I’m about to die of embarrassment. Oliver’s hand with the beer presses gently against my hipbone, keeping me close, while the other hand brushes my curly hair to one side, his face taking its place. I can feel his breath against my shoulder as we sway to the thumping bass of the music. His body is warm and curved to cover mine and it I’m finding it hard not to sink back into him the longer we dance. The song ends before my resolve breaks and I pull away just enough to put pressure on his hand at my waist. He releases me immediately and I put a little space between us, eyes on the floor, my hand pushing my hair up and off my neck. I suddenly feel really hot. I risk a glance up to see Oliver’s eyes on my face. When he sees me looking he just gives a chuckle and takes a sip of beer then shakes his head, and turns away.  

Ali finds me in the upstairs bathroom a few minutes later and shuts and locks the door behind her. She leans against it as I splash water on my face and I wait for her to gather her words.

“So…” I look at her through the mirror, my expression daring her to continue, and then pat my face dry. Ali inspects her nails, “Oliver seems to like you.”

“Ali,” I warn and she looks up, all innocence,

“What? It’s just an observation.” I sigh and jump up so I’m sitting on the counter,

“It doesn’t matter if he is interested. I’m not.” She scoffs,

“Oh please, you loved that just now. Why do you insist on making yourself miserable-”

“I’m not miserable! I just don’t need a guy to be happy.” Ali rolls her eyes,

“Yeah right, of course you don’t. You’re Saint Maggie, you’ll struggle and deny yourself anything new in penance for your past transgressions. Jesus Mags, when are you going to stop punishing yourself for Charlie?” I push off the counter,

“I’m done talking.” Ali doesn’t move from the doorway, “Move Al,” She just crosses her arms,

“No. I’m not done.” I sigh, “I’m serious Maggie. Why are you so insistent that you don’t like Oliver? That you aren’t interested in anything that isn’t dance class and school? This isn’t you.”

“It is now. I’m not the same person I was Ali, you know that. Just because I’m not interested in parties and boys and I’ve finally got my priorities straight, you think I’m broken.”

“You are seventeen Mags! You don’t have to have your shit straight! God. You are allowed to make mistakes.”

“I’ve made enough mistakes.”

“You mean Charlie? So what? You picked a bad egg. You loved a tool, it isn’t the end of the world. You can’t keep punishing yourself for something you had no control over. You didn’t know he was going to fly off the handle. You had no way of knowing what would happen.”

Her words make me want to vomit. I had known what exactly would happen when the stranger at the party had walked up to me and put a hand on my waist to whisper in my ear. I’d known for months what set Charlie off. It was no surprise a few minutes later when he slapped my face and called me a whore. It’d happened before, just never in the middle of a party in front of a group of people. I had followed him after like I always did, desperate to make it better. I didn’t stop to think about the fact he was belligerent and totally wasted before I climbed into the passenger seat of his jeep. It wasn’t until a few miles down the road I’d realized how blitzed he was. He was screaming and gripping my arm so tight I thought he was going to break it. He kept yanking at me, turning to yell in my face. When he swerved into oncoming traffic and saw the headlights of another car he’s overcorrected and sent us over the guardrail and down the embankment along the side of the road. Between the drunk driving, bruises on my arm, and the slap at the party, my stepfather had given Charlie a restraining order and effectively ended the first serious relationship I’d ever had. At the time I hadn’t know whether to be grateful or heart broken. Ali assumed that was the only time Charlie hit me and I’d let her, never able to put to words the dynamics of our screwed up relationship. So when she says I couldn’t have known I can’t tell her the truth. So instead I just shrug,

“That doesn’t change what happened.” And she comes closer,

“I know. I just…I wish you would just give yourself another chance. Learn to trust yourself again.” I know she is right but I don’t answer and she just gives a weary sigh and pulls me into a hug, “I love you Mags.” And releases me to unlock the door, “Come on, we should get back.”

We find Toby in the kitchen getting another beer and Ali tucks herself under his arm. I feel a little twinge of jealousy and go get another bottle of water to give myself something to do other than watch them canoodle. After I follow them into the dining room where they join the game of spin the bottle once more. I sit off to the side and watch, sipping water while the circle gets drunker and drunker. At some point I look up to see Oliver is leaning against the opposite wall watching the game as well. Ali sees him around the same time and calls for him to join the game. He shakes his head with a smile but the circle becomes adamant and he laughs,

“Fine, but only if Maggie plays too. It’s only fair.”

I stiffen and Oliver gives me a challenging look which I don’t deign to react to. Ali’s manicured hands wrap around my wrist and pull me roughly to the group,

“Of course she’ll play.”

She is too tipsy to realize how uncomfortable I am, but I think about how I’ve just lied to her about my past yet again and I let her settle me down next to her. Oliver takes a seat almost directly across from me and I can feel his stare burning my face. It is later in the evening and the kisses are definitely sloppier that before. Thankfully I’m not stopped on for a full round, and my turn lands on Ali, who plants a kiss on my mouth with a wet smack. The next round I’m still fairly lucky and only a red haired girl and Toby land on me. The latter’s kiss more of an Eskimo kiss that a real one. Still I feel Oliver’s eyes watching me, but his face is unreadable when Toby pulls away and I clear my throat, cheeks pink.

Oliver has just released the bottle when someone yells for last call and a final mini tournament of beer pong before everyone is kicked out for the night. Our group of people cheer and launch to their feet, Ali and Toby included. They are fairly well known for their prowess at beer pong and I stand to follow them. I happen to look down and see that the mouth of the old wine bottle is pointing at my feet and that Oliver is standing opposite of me, a small smile on his face. My pulse stutters as he comes closer and I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear when he stops in front of me.

“It seems I owe you a kiss,” his muted green eyes are intent on my face and I suddenly realize how much I actually want this to happen. For all my self-warning and denial of attraction, I have every intention of letting Oliver kiss me right now. I’m very glad Ali isn’t here to witness my lapse in self-denial. I close my eyes as Oliver closes the space between us only to have them pop back open when I feel his lips skim my cheek and pull back. I watch his face as he goes back to full height. His eyes are daring me to say something, to call him out. I don’t. I refuse to rise to his bait. He wants to play games? Fine, he can play them alone. I look him up and down and give a chuckle then turn away before he can stop me. I allow myself to feel a tiny bit of satisfaction as I make my way through the crowd to where they have beer pong set up in the living room. A hand slides over my wrist and I jerk away. Oliver just grips tighter and I turn to glare at him. He releases me and puts his hands up in mock defense,

“Jesus, if I had realized you’d get your feelings hurt over a kiss I wouldn’t have done it.” I scoff,

“Oh please, get over yourself. I just don’t like guys who just assume they can touch me.” Anger flashes across his eyes,

“You sure as hell didn’t mind me touching you earlier.”

It takes all of my being not to tell him off right here and now, maybe even shove him for good measure. How dare he presume to know anything about me? Arrogant asshole. Instead I turn away from him and I hear his grunt of annoyance. I feel him lean over me and I stiffen,

“You are just a spoiled little princess. Call me when you grow up and are ready for an adult conversation.”

I whirl but he is already walking away, the crowd parting for his tall body. I hesitate for a second then follow him, indignation burning inside me. What a prick. I find him around the side of the house lighting a cigarette. He sees me and steps forward challengingly but I don’t even let him open his mouth,

“Don’t you ever presume to know anything about me you arrogant jerk. Just because I don’t want to have a relationship with you, you think you can treat me like this? I don’t think so. I’m not some girl you can fool around with. I’m not going to play your games.” Oliver flicks his cigarette to the ground,

“Get your head out of the clouds Maggie, I could care less that you turned me down. As if you are so great. Besides, I figured you’d say yes after what happened the night I found you in Charlie’s bedroom.” I’m pretty sure I go blind with rage. There is hardly any space between us now, we’ve closed it during the fight. Oliver is panting, his breath hot on my face and I start to turn away, too angry to speak when Oliver pulls me against him, arms wrapping around me. I freeze. The kiss is rough, desperate and tastes faintly of beer and the cigarette he just threw away.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is a ragged whisper, “Maggie I’m sorry.” He pulls back, “I didn’t mean anything I said. God, I feel like such an asshole.” This conversation is too reminiscent of a few I had with Charlie and I feel sick to my stomach. He lets go of me and backs away, looking sick himself.

“This…what you just said, that isn’t okay. Calling me a whore will never be okay.” Oliver looks miserable,

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I meant. You know I don’t think of you like that.”

“But you said it anyway,” I hug myself tightly, “Retaliation because I embarrassed you.” I nod, “Right. Great.” Oliver’s hands go to my upper arms,

“Maggie please. It’s no excuse, but I’ve had too much to drink and I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. I’m not a jerk.”

“Except you are. You were just now. I have no interest in that Oliver,” I try to pull away but he won’t let go,

“No, Maggie wait. You’ve got it all wrong. Just-”

He kisses me again, hands sliding to my face, gentle, like he is scared I’ll break. It is a nice kiss, but I’m too upset to enjoy it. When he pulls back I won’t look at him and he finally lets go. I will not do this again. I will not be a victim or made to feel inferior ever again.

“Maggie, please talk to me. Let me explain.”

I walk away.


	6. Chapter 6

 

I’ve pretty much decided to never go to another party for as long as I live as I help Ms. Neal demonstrate a particularly tricky dance sequence for our private lesson with a student the next morning. Most of last night was spent either seething at Oliver’s implication or overanalyzing the two kisses we shared. I apparently need to get my head checked. I can’t believe I’m still interested after last night’s episode. I finish the dance in time with the music and hold pose so Amy, one of the better students we’ve ever had, can see the correct positioning. At ten, she is showing more promise than I ever did. Pretty soon her mother is going to have to get her a private coach or on a dance competition circuit. The girl is talented. I step to the side and Amy takes my place, ready to try again. As Ms. Neal starts the music over I gesture I’m going to the restroom and quietly leave the studio, the music following me out into the hall.

“Maggie…”

I turn sharply to see Oliver is leaning against the wall behind me, hands in his pockets, earbuds around his neck. I don’t like that I’m not as mad as I feel I should be,

“Here is a tip for you Oliver, when a girl storms off after you’ve had a fight, you don’t stalk her at work the next day. It just sends the wrong vibes.”

“Duly noted. I was here working out, I do kickboxing classes. I just happened to see you coming out.”

I look him up and down. He is looking a little sweaty, definitely tired, and I sigh,

“What do you want?”

“Just to talk to you. To explain what you wouldn’t let me explain last night.”

“I don’t have time right now Oliver, I’m having a private lesson.”

“So after then. It’s Saturday, I don’t have much going on today. We can meet up later, grab some coffee? Please?”

I look at him, really look at him and realize he means it, he really wants to talk. I sigh again and rub my face,

“God, fine. I’m out of here in an hour. I’ll meet you across the street. One coffee, you say your peace, and that’s it. I’m not really in the mood to drag this out.”

He doesn’t look happy, more just accepting that is all he will get, and shrugs,

“That’s fine. See you in an hour.”

 

I sit across from him exactly an hour later, sipping my coffee drink gingerly as it is lava hot, and wait for him to speak.

“I mishandled the situation. Our situation I mean. Last week we had this great time and I thought maybe you were interested then this week it’s like you can’t be bothered. So then I thought maybe you were wanting me to work for it…you know, playing hard to get. So I thought I could play that game. And it just turns out that I am a huge tool and you actually meant it when you said you weren’t looking for anything.” I cross my arms,

“Yeah, funny how that works. I say words and they actually mean something.” Oliver laughs,

“See? That. That right there is why I asked you out. Your humor is so dry and sarcastic. I was thinking, I like this girl. She is real.”

“And then you decided to call me a skank in the hopes of securing my affection. That may work on your regular type of girl, but I don’t really appreciate it.” Oliver sighs,

“I didn’t call you a skank. I didn’t call you a whore, or easy either.”

“No, you just implied it, as if that is so much better.” Oliver stares at the coffee cup in his hands,

“That wasn’t what I said, or implied. You just assumed that I meant that.” I scoff,

“Seriously? I heard what you said Oliver, I’ve heard it plenty of times in the past year and honestly I’m sick of it.” He clenches his jaw and looks up, green eyes piercing,

“Maybe if you stopped caring so much about what other people think about you, you would have actually listened to me. I said I thought you would say yes after what happened that night, you just assumed I meant you were an easy lay. What I actually meant was how you agreed to get dinner then flirted with me the entire time. I meant how we smoked together and you told me you were over your ex. I kind of thought you were giving me the go ahead. But obviously I was wrong. You were just using me because you were stuck in a crappy situation with your ex and now that Charlie isn’t around I don’t matter.”

I open and close my mouth, a little thrown. He nods, “I’m not such an asshole now am I?” I scowl,

“You are definitely still an asshole, just not nearly as big of one.” He just scoffs and takes a swallow of his drink,

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t my best wording, but you completely shut me down and wouldn’t let me explain.” I nod,

“I did kind of freak out. And I’m sorry for that, really, but I’ve just really gotten over being called a whore.”

“Would you quit saying that? We’ve already established that I in no way think that you are like that and anyone who does is an asshole and doesn’t know you. Now you being a tease…I’m still on the fence about that.” I laugh and he smiles in response, reaching across the table to take my hand, “You know, I’d be willing to forget that word in relation to you if you’d go to dinner with me.” His hand is big and warm as his thumb slides across my knuckles,

“Oh yeah?” He nods, “You blackmailing me?” Oliver’s smile turns into a grin,

“Depends, is it working?” He cocks his head a little to the side. Absolutely adorable dammit. I decide to take the direct approach,

“I did use you last week. And before last night I had no intention of spending time with you again.” He starts to pull away but I tighten my fingers around his, “That isn’t to say I didn’t want to though. I just…after Charlie I’ve learned to be…selective about who I give my time to. I meant what I said about wanting to focus on school right now. I’ve worked really hard to get where I’m am and I don’t want to jeopardize getting into a good college because of grades. You understand that right?” Oliver nods, his face unreadable. I put my other hand over his, “I really appreciate you taking me to dinner last week, and if I’m being honest, I’d love to do it again, I just…”

“You’re scared.”

“I just am not interested in starting anything new with anyone right now. But I’d like to be friends.” Oliver raises an eyebrow,

“Seriously? You’re going to friend zone me, right now, here?” He pulls his hand out from mine and runs it through his hair, “Man, I can’t catch a break.” He drums his fingers on the table, “I don’t suppose you’d consider a friends with benefits deal instead would you?” I narrow my eyes and he sighs, “Didn’t think so. Do I at least get to be handsy? You know, dance with you at parties, do that thing where I put my hand on the wall behind you and lean over to talk to you?”

Despite myself I laugh and Oliver is quick to jump on it, “So that’s a yes?” I shrug,

“It’s a maybe.” And he claps his hands together once,

“Deal!”


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver convinces me to give him my phone number and over the next two weeks we text occasionally. Just enough that I begin to expect at least one a day. If Ali notices she doesn’t say anything which leads me to believe she either hasn’t noticed or hopes not talking about it will push me into going out with Oliver. She will be sorely disappointed if that is the case.

It’s been three weeks since we’ve gone to a party, but it’s Halloween. You pretty much have to go to a party on Halloween. Besides, Ali is going to the U for fashion design next fall. Her Halloween costumes are legendary in our town. Everyone is always interested in what she will come up with next. She works most of the year to get the three of us ready for tonight. She even occasionally makes simple costumes for some of the kids from the gym we work at for extra cash. This year she and Toby are Roman. He is a legionnaire equipped with the sandals, breast plate, and helmet. Ali made herself a beautiful stola from a really soft material and a rich blue palla draped from shoulder to hip. Her hair was expertly styled and her sandals, earrings, and bracelets were gold and matched the ornate fibula holding her outfit together. For someone who hated history class, her historical costumes were quite perfect.

For me she had made a modern interpretation of little red riding hood. I’m in a black long sleeved dress that ends mid-thigh and tights. My boots are thick soled and dark and I’m wearing a matching leather waist cincher and grieves. The cloak is the real showstopper though; blood red, calf length, with slits in the side for my arms and a deep hood that can hid my face. It had taken Ali months to sew. It keeps me deliciously warm as we walk towards the sorority house that Ali selected to show off her newest creations.

When we get inside Ali removes her own cloak and puts it in the coat closet and then turns to pull my hood back and fix my hair. She has straightened it then loosely curled it so it reaches nearly past my chest. She arranges the hood and cloak just so and then deems me ready to enter the Halloween party fray with a smile.

“Knock him dead.”

I stare at her. “What?”

She just shrugs, “Nothing,” and pulls Toby to the kitchen to get a beer.

I watch them for a minute, so much for her not noticing the texting, then sigh and follow.

The party is pretty good. This one doesn’t have spin the bottle thank god. Instead it has quarter poker. You bring a roll of quarters as your entry fee and ‘chips’ and play until you’re out or until you’ve feel you’ve won enough. I left Ali and Toby on the dance floor to play a few rounds. I’m kicking ass, mostly because I’m the only sober one an hour later when a warm hand lands on my shoulder. I tense a little as it squeezes gently.

“Hello baby,”

Shit. I glance over my right shoulder to see Charlie standing over me in a cop uniform, a smile on his face, a beer in his free hand. I fight to control my breathing. Making my face a mask of indifference I give him a bland smile,

“Hey,” and turn back to the card game dismissively. The squeeze of his hand turns almost painful.

“You want to go get a drink?”

It isn’t really a question and he knows I know that. I hesitate, weighing the repercussions of turning him down when I hear,

“She already has one, but thanks for asking.”

Oliver appears to my left, a beer in one hand, a water in the other. He is in a white t shirt and fitted jeans with rolled cuffs and boots. His hair is slicked back and a pack of cigarettes is rolled up in his sleeve. He looks like a greaser. I’ve never been happier to see one in my life. My relief must have shown on my face because next thing I know, Oliver has pulled up a chair and sat, his arm settling comfortably behind my shoulders, effectively making Charlie release his hold.

“Hey you,” he murmurs and hands me the water and promptly nuzzles my neck. I can practically feel Charlie’s disbelief behind us. Oliver settles back into his chair and takes a sip of beer before glancing back at Charlie,

“You been good Aimes?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Can’t complain.” And his fingers toy with my hair.

Charlie leaves without another word. Oliver waits about a minute then untangles his fingers and scoots away, the absence of his arm making me a little colder. He settles a respectful distance away and drink his beer, not saying a word. All eyes at the table go back to the game and we continue to play until I can’t take Oliver’s silence any longer. I ‘cash out’ six dollars richer than when I came and lightly touch Oliver’s shoulder in a silent request he follow me. He obliges and I find a relatively quiet hallway towards the back of the house and turn to face him.

“Thank you.” He shrugs,

“It’s what I’m here for isn’t it?” and I frown. He just takes another swallow of beer.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

He shrugs again, “It’s alright, still early.”

I fight the urge to sigh in frustration, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you being so short with me?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Oli,” I reach for him but he takes a step back,

“Careful, you don’t want to give me the wrong idea.”

“Oh god. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. You’re notorious for being emotionally unreliable when Charlie is around. I have to be careful.”

I stare at him, “Wow,” shake my head and walk away, back into the crowd of the party.

I find Ali and Toby on the dance floor and join them. Ali’s eyebrows furrow at the stormy look on my face and she glances at Toby then hands me her beer. I stare at it for a long moment then tip it back, chugging the last of it. Toby takes it and leaves the floor to presumable throw it away. Ali dances close and presses her lips to my ear,

“What’s up?”

“Boys.”

She pulls back and searches my face. Toby returns behind her, three bottles of beer in his hands. Ali takes two, looks at me one more time, and then hands me one.

“Fuck ‘em,” and clinks her bottle against mine.

I haven’t drank since that summer, so two beers is enough to make me a decently tipsy. So when a hand slides into mine I don’t bother to pull away, just far enough gone to not be so wary.

“Come on,” he whispers in my ear and I nod, his blue eyes very convincing. He leads me away from Ali and Toby, who are too absorbed with each other to notice me leaving. He takes me deeper into the dancing then pulls me against him, hands going to my waist. He is warm and smells good. Another beer has found its way into my hand and I drink deeply, enjoying the way the lights sway above me. God I haven’t felt this relaxed in forever. Lips press against mine and I pull away in surprise. Those blue eyes find mine and he smiles his apology. I shrug and we continue to dance. My cloak is stifling and I tell him as much. He just smiles and pulls me through the crowd to the same hallway I had taken Oliver to earlier.

“Maggie,” he whispers as his fingers loosen the knot that holds the cloak closed. I smile at the familiarity of his voice. The cloak is undone and he slides it open then pauses, taking in the dress I’m wearing underneath it.

“Ali’s” I murmur and I see his understanding. It’s tighter, shorter, and lower cut that what I usually own.

“It looks good,” he replies and I smile at his approval. It’s hard to earn sometimes. He is still just looking when someone appears in my line of peripheral vision. I turn my head and it’s Oliver, his eyes shadowed as he looks at us. I raise the hand with the beer in acknowledgement and his eyes narrow then widen in disbelief. I glance back at Charlie to see he has seen Oliver as well and taken a step closer to me,

“Need something Stein?”

Oliver has shoved him away from me before I even realized he moved,

“Fucking pig,” he snarls and Charlie sneers back,

“Just because you’re too much of a bitch to go for it I’m a pig?”

“Fuck you Charlie,” and Oliver grabs my arm and pulls me away, his other hand wrenching the beer from my hand and setting it on a shelf as we pass by. His grip is almost painful and he pulls me through the crowd and out the front door. The late October air is freezing and I struggle to close my cloak with one hand. Oliver glances back then stops and turns, his hands pushing my fumbling fingers away.

“Oliver,”

“Shut up,” he snaps and finishes then take my hand in his and pulls me along.

I let him until he pulls out a keycard for a building. I dig in my heels and he turns on me, annoyance evident on his face,

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Maggie,”

“Where are we going?”

A sigh, “My dorm. You’re drunk, you need something other than alcohol and sleep.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I let him pull me inside into the warmth and upstairs to his room. I wait meekly next to him as he unlocks the door then ushers me inside. It’s a single room with a bed with a mini fridge next to it, a desk with a laptop on it, a dresser with a small TV and Xbox one, and small closet. It is surprisingly neat for a boy’s room. Oliver shuts the door and locks it then turns to me and looks me over, as if trying to decide what to do. He settle on getting me out of my cloak.

“I can do that,” I mumble but he just ignores me and slides the cloak off my shoulders and folds it neatly before putting it on the back of the desk chair. He takes in my dress and just sighs, making me feel a little exposed. I cross my arms defensively and his hands lightly touches my wrist,

“Hey,”

I shrug off his touch and he just sighs again before going to his dresser to pull out a plain t shirt and shorts.

“Here, these will be more comfortable.”

I take them and he pulls out another set for himself before going to the door,

“I’ll change in the bathroom so you can have some privacy.”

He leaves and I immediately sit on the bed, the beginnings of a headache making my skull throb. I pull off my boots and stockings, stuffing the latter in the former. I slip on his shorts and tighten the drawstring at tight as it will go. They hang a little low, but it isn’t too bad. I pull my dress up and over my head then replace it with Oliver’s shirt which is much too long, but smells just like him. I fold my dress neatly then place it and my boots at the foot of the bed and wait for Oliver to come back. He does momentarily, knocking before he enters. I tell him I’m dressed and he comes in, pausing a moment at the sight of me in his clothes. I flush a little and look away. The longer I sit the more I realize how stupid I’ve been tonight. My buzz is slowly receding, leaving only regret and anger at myself in its wake. Oliver moves around me, reaching in the mini fridge for two waters, pulling the desk chair closer to the bed and starting up the Xbox one and the TV. He finally settles in the chair next to the bed and cracks the water bottle lid before handing it to me. I take it silently and drink a few swallow before replacing the cap and staring at it in my hands,

“So,”

Oliver took a deep breath, “I assume you were going to stay at Ali’s tonight?” I nod and he sits back, leg bouncing up and down with restless energy. “And where is she?”

“At the party still I assume.”

“Right. Well you should probably text her to let her know where you are.” I’m proceeding to do just that when he continues, “Jesus Maggie, how could you be so stupid?” I pause but don’t look up, “You knew he was there. You knew he’s seek you out. Why the hell didn’t you find me?”

I send the text and finally look up at him, “Didn’t want to give you the wrong idea now did I?”

His whole body stills. I almost regret it…almost.

“Right. Well the next time I see Charlie feeling you up in a dark hallway I’ll just let him finish what he started.”

“I didn’t need your help,”

“Sure. That’s why you looked so happy to see me at the poker table, because you didn’t need me.”

“Shut up.”

Oliver gives a harsh laugh, “You honestly can’t say no to him can you? It’s a little pathetic how easy it is for him to pull you back in.”

“Fuck you,”

I stand to leave, but it is negated by the fact I wobble, my head still a little woozy. Oliver’s hands shoot out to steady me as mine go to my head. I look down at the feeling of his hands on my waist and realize how close we are. Oliver has sat up in the chair, the top of his head at my neck. He glances up at me and one of my hands falls to rest lightly on his shoulder,

“I thought it was you…at first. When he took my hand and whispered to come with him.”

Oliver shakes his head, “I was outside smoking,”

“I know. I realized it was him and it felt like before…You know before before.” Oliver’s hands are still on my waist, his fingers tensing and un-tensing and I sigh, “I wish it had been you.”

He released me and stood, “Don’t say that,” he moved away, closer to his dresser.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t mean it.”

“Sure I do.”

“No. You don’t. You only wish I had stopped him in the first place,”

“No. I would have rather danced with you.”

“Why?”

I stared, “Because I like you. Isn’t that obvious?”

Oliver looked like he was in pain, “This isn’t funny Maggie.”

“I’m not joking.”

I realize now what I’m saying and I close my eyes in horror. I’m never drinking again. Even now the room is spinning just a touch so I open my eyes to restore order. Oliver is staring at me,

“You…” he looks away then sighs, “You should drink some more water.” And he gestures at the bottle I’ve left on the bed and I comply, if only for something to look at other than him. I can’t believe I actually said that to him, that I felt comfortable enough to just answer him. God. I sit and bury my face in my hands. I hear Oliver moving around and when I look up I see him pulling a sheet out of his closet.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the floor.”

“No. No. I can sleep in the floor.”

He just gave me a look, “You can have the bed it’s only for tonight.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s your bed. I don’t mind.”

“Maggie,” his tone was sharp and I froze, “Just…it’s fine, take the bed.”

I don’t argue and Oliver pulls an extra pillow from the closet and shuts the door then makes a pallet on the floor. I just watch, feeling rotten. Why had I drank?

I knew why. He was standing right in front of me. Oliver and his stupid hurt feelings and quick smiles. I don’t want to like him, I don’t want him to make me want to drink when he dismisses me.

With growing horror I realize my throat is tightening and my vision is swimming. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, cursing myself under my breath.

“Hey,”

Fingers tug at my wrists but I pull back, refusing to release the pressure holding back my tears.

“Mags,”

Hands move me and I find myself curled up in Oliver’s arms, his chin on the top of my head, my knees tucked up against his thigh, our backs against the wall by the bed. We sit like this for a while, me fighting tears while Oliver holds me. Eventually I lower my hands and Oliver tilts my face up to he can see me.

“Better?”

I huff and he smiles, “Want to watch tv?”

I shrug and he shifts forward, keeping a tight grip on me to grab the Xbox controller, then settles back. He puts on Mythbusters and puts down the controller, his arms still around me. Without allowing myself to think about it too much I settle into his side, my arm going over his stomach. His cheek rests against the top of my head and I let myself fully relax.

I fall asleep at some point only to wake up when Oliver tucks me under the covers. I grab his arm and he stills. I pull it around me, tucking it against my chest and snuggle down under the blanket. I’m practically holding my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do. He doesn’t move for a long time. Finally he settles down behind me, space between our bodies. We lay like that for a few minutes, neither of us close to sleep now.

I turn over, still under his arm and look at him in the glow of the TV. He looks back, his eyes searching my face. I steel myself and take a deep breath. When I lean forward he doesn’t move. I gently press my lips to his. He doesn’t kiss me back so I kiss him harder, my hands clenching in his shirt. I’m almost desperate for him to respond in some way. To know he still wants me. I hate it, how much I want him to want me back. Suddenly I’m beneath him, my arms pinned above me,

“Stop.”

I’m achingly aware of his body above mine, my breath coming out in pants. Oliver’s eyes lower to my mouth and darken. His kiss is hard and hungry and I struggle to keep up with him. His fingers interlace with mine and he keeps me effective trapped as he kisses me. He breaks away with a gasp and releases me, retreating to the other end of the bed. I sit up, trying to calm my breathing.

“I can’t be your second choice Maggie. I won’t be your rebound guy.”

Oliver is sitting with his knees up, eyes closed.

“You aren’t.”

“Then why do I feel like you only kiss me because you’re grateful?”

“Because you’re stuck in your own head?”

I surprise a laugh out of him, “Ask me if I like you.”

“Do you like me?”

“Have you met you?” Another laugh, this one sad, “But you love him.”

I don’t have a response. Oliver just rests his forehead on his knees and we sit in silence.

      An hour or so later Ali texts me.

_*Toby called an Uber, you awake?*_

I stare at my screen for a long moment. Oliver has dozed off leaning against the wall, his too long hair brushing over his eyelids,

_*Yeah. We are at Johnson House. I’ll be down in 5.*_

I pocket my phone and quietly get up from the bed. I’ve been watching tv for the past hour trying to decide what to do next, but I’m not any further along with that than I was an hour ago. I silently pick up my boots and clothes and put my hand on the doorknob. I glance at Oliver’s sleeping form then soundlessly leave the room. It’s for the best really. Oliver is a nice guy, he deserves better than me. I’m leaving in ten months, maybe sooner if I decide to take early enrollment. I’m no good for him, especially with Charlie shadowing my every move, threating to expose our secrets. Ali and Toby are waiting in the Uber when I get downstairs. My face must tell her enough, because when I get in, Ali doesn’t say a word, just leans into my side.

I have a slight hangover the next morning but I just pop some aspirin and grab a light breakfast before leaving Ali still sleeping in her bed to head to the gym. I like to get there early for the one on one lessons to get the studio set up. It’s 9:05 a.m. when I turn the corner of Main Street and see Oliver’s truck outside of the gym. Shit. I walk past it slowly, trying to decide the best approach if I were to see him only for him to come out of the door right when I get there. He is sweat soaked, neck and face a little red, hair plastered to his forehead. His jaw clenches at the sight of me. I just duck my head and go inside, a coward, none of the words I’d been rehearsing spoken. I can feel his eyes on my back.

I’ve gotten the studio pretty well set up when the door behind me opens. I glance at my watch, 9:35 a.m., too early for Mrs. Neal or Abigale. I turn and freeze, Oliver standing just inside the door. We watch each other, frozen, until Oliver crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb,

“You just left.”

I don’t respond. There is nothing to say to that. When I stay quiet Oliver scoffs and shakes his head, “Fine. Fine Maggie, I’ll stop. No more texts, no more flirting, no more rescuing you when you refuse to rescue yourself. I’m done.”

I turn my face away so he can’t see. This is what I wanted, for him to move on, stop bothering me. I hate how much it hurts. Oliver grunts in disbelief, “This is seriously what you want?” I take a deep breath and let it out then turn back with a shrug, the picture of indifference. We’ve only been flirting for a month, he’ll move on. In the grand scheme of things a month is nothing. We’ll both move on.

When he starts towards me I start to panic. I back up, but I’m cornered, the table with the radio to my left, the wall to my back. Within seconds he’s in front of me, hands going to my face.

“Stop!”

My voice is a shaky whisper as the heat from Oliver’s body makes me tremble. He obeys, his eyes dark. His breathing is shallow, lips parted, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t ignore me and take what he wants. He waits for me to tell him what to do. Waits for my permission. Shit.

I kiss him.


	8. Chapter 8

Oliver and I have been closer for two weeks before I bring it up to Rick. I wanted to be sure it was something that would last more than a month before telling my stepfather. I’m almost scared that it will last longer. Oliver is attentive and sweet. He makes me laugh and has a very easy going nature, fine with me spending an evening with Ali and Toby instead of him. He’s focused on school and occasionally helps me with my own homework, supportive of my college applications out of state. I can’t tell if it is because it is all still so new, or if he really is this good of a guy. I hate that I’m not sure.

            Rick is sitting on the couch, beer in hand, when I walk into the living room. I perch on the edge of the recliner and try to gather my words.

“What do you want kid?”

His is still facing the TV, but I can feel all of his attention on me.

“I…well…” I open my mouth then shut it again, irrationally scared of what he’ll think. Telling him about Oliver will make him think of Charlie and how disappointed he had been in me.

“Mags.” Rick sat up and turned off the TV, “Spill it. Are you failing a class?”

“No, no, school is going great.”

“Then what are you so worked up about?”

            We sit quietly for a long moment and I can see Rick’s fatherly instincts kicking in.

“Is it about a boy?” I shrug and he sits back, “You’re not pregnant are you?”

“No! I just…I sort of have a boyfriend.”

            Rick seems both visibly relieved and worried, “It’s not…”

“No. I don’t talk to him. You know that.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done something I hadn’t approved of.”

            And there it is. That fissure in the rock of trust he used to have in me. The benefit of the doubt was gone between us. I flinch,

“I may not have agreed with the restraining order, but I don’t go near him.”

“And does he obey the law?”

I swallow, “I’ve seen him once or twice in passing at the U. No more than a few words said. I’m done with him Rick, I promise.”

“There shouldn’t have been any words Maggie. He isn’t supposed to be within 500 feet of you.”

“I know that, so does he, but the town isn’t that big, we’re bound to run into each other.”

            Rick scowls but says nothing, just taking another sip of beer,

“So this new guy…”

“His name is Oliver Stein.”

“Mark Stein’s boy?”

“Yes.”

I can see Rick sifting through what he knows about the Steins from work. I see him remember Oliver’s mother.

“I remember him, swimmer yeah?”

“He was. He quit after…well you know.”

“Too bad, if I remember right he was pretty good. As good as _him_ even.”

“Yeah, they were co-captains.”

“Friends?”

I scoff, “Hardly. Oli can’t stand him.”

“Good. Me either.”

            We sit quietly.

“Well I guess I should meet him then. Invite him over for dinner some night.”

“You work nights until Thanksgiving.”

“Right…Well invite him to thanksgiving then.”

I frown, “Really?” and Rick shrugs,

“Sure. Why not? It’s always just you, me, and Amy anyway. One more person won’t hurt.”

“Alright, I’ll ask.”

            I stand and start to leave but pause,

“I’m…You’re a lot better about this than I thought you would be.”

            Rick turns the TV back on and settles on the couch, “I’m doing my best to trust your judgement. Don’t make me regret it.”


	9. Chapter 9

 

            When I mention Thanksgiving to Oliver he readily agrees, saying the sooner he meets Rick, the better. I tell him that our Thanksgivings are small, just me, my stepdad, and his sister from Kentucky. Oli just shrugs and says his are just him and his father, so it won’t be a big deal. Their Thanksgiving usually starts around five, our starts at noon, so it works out a little too perfectly. A few days before Thanksgiving Oliver texts me,

_*So my dad says that he wants to meet you.*_

_*Oh yeah?*_

_*Yeah, he said since your family is nice enough to have me over on Thanksgiving, that we should have you over as well.*_

_*I get the feeling you don’t like that idea?*_

There was a long delay in his response, the … on the screen seeming to last forever,

_*My father can be…difficult. He isn’t the easiest person to get along with and I just expect him to act, well, like an asshole. I didn’t really expect him to be interested when I told him I was coming over.*_

_*So I won’t come. It isn’t a big deal. We’ve only been together a month.*_

_*You’re a saint, but you pretty much have to come now. He’ll never let it go if you don’t.*_

_*Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.*_

_*It’s not you I’m worried about.*_

Since it was Thanksgiving break and Oliver was home for the holiday, we didn’t see each other as much. He was anxious about me being at his house should his father be there, and he and I weren’t allowed to be alone at mine, Rick’s rule. We got lunch once, but stuck mostly to texting or Skype.

            Thanksgiving Day dawned cool and slightly overcast. Rick and I had been cooking since the had gotten home around 4 a.m. The turkey had been basted and stuffed and put in the oven first. After that we slowly started pulling all of the sides together. This is how this day went every time since I started living with Rick when I was 12. He’d wake me up early and get me started peeling vegetables while he made the turkey. To be honest, I had never cooked meals before I was 12. My mother was the type buy casseroles and freeze them. So we’d just pop them in the oven at three fifty for a half hour and there they were. Rick genuinely likes to cook and loves to grill. During the summer months the cops from the station have cookouts almost every night at the lake when they aren’t working.

            Oliver texts me around 10 saying he is up and asks what he should bring. Desserts. That is the one thing Rick can’t or won’t do, bake. His sister Amy always brings two desserts and a bottle of wine for Thanksgiving. That is the one thing she could do, is bake. She is an awful cook otherwise which always surprised me. But I’ve gotten used to her and Rick’s oddities over the years and I always look forward to Thanksgiving. Amy is in her thirties, a little bohemian, and always chasing after Mr. Right. She has yet to find him, but her tales of romance and travel as a journalist have always intrigued me.

            By 11, most everything is done and I begin to set the table with actual china, wine glasses, and a nice floral centerpiece I had picked up at the grocery store last night. A knock on the door and a loud and happy,

“Hello!” announces Amy’s arrival. She comes into the living room with arms laden with bags and boxes and gives us a huge smile, “I’ve missed you!” She dumps her packages into a heap and whirls me into a hug, her floral perfume and handmade scarf nearly smothering me. Amy is 5’10 with long dark blonde hair that is enviously straight, long legs and an ample figure. It’s a wonder why she hasn’t found Mr. Right yet.

            “Down girl,” Rick admonishes and pulls his younger sister into a hug. While I finish setting the table Amy talks away about the traffic, the weather, what she brought, who she is seeing now, and what work she has been up to. I watch Rick listening to her with a small smile, as if she is an adorable two year old telling him about the world. Both of their parents died while Rick was in college. Six years Amy’s senior, he dropped out, joined the police academy, and raised finished raising Amy who was 14 at the time. They had a bond like no other. While Amy continues to talk I go upstairs to get changed out of my pajamas. I pull on dark jeans, flats, and a soft shirt before brushing my hair and pulling it up into a bun. I put on just a bit on concealer and mascara and deem myself fit to welcome company. I hear a knock on the front door as I;m coming back down and I call that I’ll get it.

            I open the door and find Oliver standing on the front porch, hair freshly cut, in a dark blue button up and dark khaki’s. It’s unnerving to see all of his face after so long. His hair is just long enough to be tousled by the incoming storm’s winds and a few shades darker now that it is short. His grey-green eyes find mine and he smiles,

            “Do you like it? Maria did it. She said I wasn’t fit to be seen with my hair so long.”

“Maria?”

He turns a little pink, “Oh, our house keeper. She used to be my nanny when I was younger.”

            Here’s the thing. I know that Oliver has money. His family runs in the same circle as Ali and Charlie’s. BMWs, summer houses, and sprawling front lawns, but somehow seeing him at the college I had forgotten. A house keeper and nanny. Rick would laugh his ass off. I may not be his biological child, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to raise me with his own two hands. Oli is fidgeting so I push my slight shock to the side,

“Well she did a good job. You look really good.”

He smiles, “Oh, I brought chocolate silk pie.” He holds out a covered pie pan and I take it,

“Let me guess, Maria made this too?”

He flushes even more, “We don’t…we don’t cook in my house.”

            It had been the same at Charlie’s. They had a cook and a housekeeper who kept the place running efficiently while the family just did whatever they wanted. I try to ignore their similar family dynamics and let Oliver inside. I shut the turn and turn to find him standing very close in the small foyer.

“I’ve missed you,”

His kiss nearly makes me drop the pie in my hands. My eyes are a little slow to open and Oliver is smiling down at me in satisfaction. A cough make us fly apart like we’d been burned. Amy looks between us with a sly grin,

“So you must be Oliver.”

            Lunch goes smoothly, with Amy talking enough for everyone. She asks Oliver about school and interests then thankfully leaves him alone, instead starting a conversation with Rick about the most recent football game. One of the few non bohemian things she is into. After we’ve finished eating Oliver thanks Rick for the meal and compliments Amy’s baking. Rick pulls Oliver into the kitchen to help clean up while Amy and I pack leftovers at the table. I stare after them anxiously and Amy pats my arm,

“He’s just going to get to know him a little better. I wouldn’t worry.”

            But I did. After a few minutes I went around the living room to the back hall so I could hear them talking. The sink was running and as I peeked around the corner I could see Rick was rinsing dishes while Oliver dried and stacked them.

            “You’re a sophomore then?” Rick’s voice was politely interested. Something that was never a good sign. Rick wasn’t a fake person. That voice definitely was fake. Oliver nodded,

“Yes sir, I’m a junior after May.”

“You play sports?”

“I used to swim, but not anymore.”

“That’s right, you were on the high school team when they won state.”

Oh no.

“Yes, both years.”

Rick nods and hands Oliver another plate, “So you knew Charlie then.”

Oliver stiffens but doesn’t stop what he is doing, “Yes I know him. We co-captained the team in high school and I see him occasionally at the U.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

Rick just shrugs, “He’s apparently been in touch with Maggie when she’s at the U. You know she has a restraining order against him?”

I feel the bottom drop out of my stomach and I cover my mouth so I don’t make a sound as Oliver stops what he’s doing and stares at Rick.

“What?”

Rick nods, “We filed a restraining order a little over a year ago after the accident. I didn’t trust him not to come back for her. He got her into drinking, drugs, partying. And then there were the bruises.”

“Bruises…”

Rick seemed almost to be hating this, revealing what he knew about my shame. Letting Oliver know I hadn’t been completely honest. Showing me how much he truly didn’t trust me.

“Yeah, on her arm. Do you want to tell him the rest sweetheart or should I?”

            I come from around the corner and Rick meets my gaze. Oliver turns as well, his eyes won’t meet mine.

            “Why?”

“He needed to know,” Rick shuts off the water, “I had a feeling that you were keeping it from everyone. I love you Maggie, but I’ll be damned if I let that abusive, controlling snake near you again.” Oliver flinches at the word abusive and Rick sighs, “I know it was only the one time, but think what could have happened if you had stayed with him. I know you cared about him but enough is enough. You have a new boyfriend. You’ve moved on, but you can’t hide things from him or me. Deal?”

            I want to scream. I want to rage against him and all his misplaced help. He’s ruined a good day, probably ruined a good relationship, all because he wanted someone else to know how screwed up Charlie was. Oliver already knew, Rick just made me a terrible person for keeping things from my boyfriend. Oliver mumbles an apology to Rick then leaves the kitchen and exits the house through the back door. I stare at Rick for a long moment,

“I really, really, _really_ don’t like you right now,” I hiss and follow Oliver out into the dreary afternoon.


	10. Chapter 10

I find Oliver sitting in his truck smoking a cigarette. The rain starts to fall almost as soon as I’m in the cab and we just sit in silence listening to it bounce of the exterior. I open my mouth to say something then Oliver cuts me off,

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times did he hit you?”

“Once.” The lie rolls off my tongue smoothly.

Oliver scoffs and throws his cigarette out of the cracked open widow before rolling it up, “Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.” I keep my voice steady, willing him to accept my words as truth. I can’t tell him how many times Charlie hit me, he’ll never look at me the same. Never kiss me again like he did in the foyer.

He stares at me for a long time and then sighs, “I believe you. I just hate that it happened at all. I get it, okay? Why you don’t tell anyone about the restraining order. It’s private, but you used me. God Maggie you used me so much in the beginning. The least you could have done was tell me the real reason why.”

“Well now you know.”

“Now I know.”

            Oliver turns away and stares out the window, his shoulders tense. I watch him quietly, letting him digest the new information.

“Does Ali know?”

“Yes. She was there when Rick told me.” He nods,

“And yet she let him lead you away on Halloween…”

I scowl, “She didn’t let him do anything. She didn’t know he was there. Look she and I don’t necessarily like the restraining order, but we agree that Charlie has a hard time letting go of things.”

“If you don’t like it just get it revoked.”

“I can’t. Not until I’m 18. Rick is my legal guardian. He wants it, so it stays.”

“Not that it does much good.”

I scoff and throw up my hands, “What exactly are you mad about? That I didn’t tell you? I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing to me and pretty detrimental to his life. I may not trust him, but it doesn’t mean I want everyone to shun him like he is some kind of pariah.”

Oliver is shaking his head, “I don’t care that you didn’t tell me, I get that it is embarrassing, but the fact that you keep the restraining order and use me to get away from him speaks volumes on how shitty he had to have been to you and how screwed up you must be to still be in love with him after.”

            I’m speechless. It doesn’t matter that it is right, it matters that this is how he actually sees me. We sit in a tense and uncomfortable silence, his words hanging between us.

“Maggie I’m sorry.”                                                                 

“It’s fine,”

“I didn’t mean what I said,”

“Yes you did.”

“I just don’t understand how you can still care about him is all. I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

I sigh and rest my head against the window beside me, “There isn’t really a way for me to explain. He saw me when no one else did. He showered me with love and attention.” I don’t mention how that love and attention had turned to possessiveness and an exploding temper. That came later, after I was already enthralled.

“I saw you.”

I turn my head to look at him. Oliver is looking out of his own window, face turned away, but his hand in the middle of the seat between us. I’m not sure if he is conscious of his body language.

“When did you see me? When he brought me around?”

“No. I’d noticed you at the party first. You looked different then…like you cared what people thought.”

“And I don’t now?”

Oliver shrugs, “No more than most people. But then…I don’t know. Your hair was just right, makeup perfect, carefully planned outfits. You know, like most high school girls.”

“I’m surprised you saw me at all if I was so similar to everyone else.”

Oliver turns to me now, “Just because you were part of the masses doesn’t mean you were any less beautiful or interesting. If was just a different sort of attraction then as opposed to now.”

I fight the urge to blush at his compliment, “What’s different now?”

“Well me for one. And you. We aren’t the same people and I think that’s a good thing. We wouldn’t have made it back then.”

“Why’s that?”

Oliver’s jaw clenches, “I was different before my mom died. A lot more like Charlie, sure of myself and a little cocky. I may have been lower key about it, but I was still a jerk sometimes. After she died I dropped everyone and everything from before. If we had been dating I would had dropped you too, no matter how much I cared. I hated everything about myself and my life. I completely started over.”

            I don’t reach for him. He doesn’t want my comfort, I can see it in the tenseness of his shoulders. It hurts some part of him to talk about her. I just nod and he continues,

“I think that’s why I hate how much you care about him. Because I know exactly how he is and how he acts and you still want him. I won’t call it jealously, but I’m mature enough to say it makes me hesitant about getting closer to you, especially after today.”

            Jesus. We’re having a conversation fit for legitimate adults, not teenagers with shaky backgrounds. Being told someone thinks less of you because of your feelings for someone else is one of the shittier ways to be put down.

“Oliver…” I stop, rephrasing what I want to say in my head. I want to get angry, to tell him off, but I won’t. I decide to take his upfront approach, see how he feels about bluntness,

“Look, I can understand being jealous of Charlie or hesitant about starting something with me when you aren’t sure of my feelings, but you make it sound like you mean to marry me or something. We’ve been talking for a month. A month, and you seem to expect me to give you my undying love. That isn’t going to happen. It won’t happen ever. I may grow to love you. But you will never own all of me. I loved Charlie with all of my heart. He will always have some sort of significance with me, but I don’t want to be with him, ever. So you either trust me or you don’t. Relationships are give and take, and all you seem to be doing is taking. You ask me all the questions and insist on all the things from me and never give me anything in return. Don’t expect me to conform to your expectations when you barely have the courtesy to tell me anything about yourself other than the bare minimum.”

It’s all out in a rush but I don’t feel any better. I just feel tired and cranky. I’m so sick of explaining myself to people, trying to make then understand me. Oliver’s hand between us is clenched into a fist and I can tell he is his clenching his teeth together. It seems he isn’t a fan and brutal honesty either. We sit in another heated silence and I wait for him to explode or ask me to leave. He does neither. Instead the lets out a long breath and uncurls his fingers and seeks mine out. His thumb rubs across my palm and I repress the urge to shiver. It tickles. He is looking at our hands, his face thoughtful instead of angry.

“I’m sorry,” he says it quietly but he means it.

“It’s fine.”

“Stop saying it’s fine when it isn’t. I’d rather you be perfectly honest with me than to hide things. I hate it when people hide how they feel. How can anyone be expected to notice things when people hide their true feelings all the fucking time.”

We’ve crossed into dangerous territory. There is an edge of utter frustration in his voice. This I can handle. Anger I understand. I pull gently on his hand to make him look at me,

“I’ll do my best. I’ll try to be as honest with you as I can be.”

He stares at me for a long time and I realize I’m seeing a different part of him. The part of himself he keeps hidden from everyone else. For all his bluster about being honest, he hasn’t been honest with me or maybe even himself. His hand squeezes mine and I give him a weak smile,

“Do you still want me to come to dinner?”

I see surprise and maybe a little trepidation on his face, “Only if you want to. If you want to cool it for while I understand.”

Cool it. What a stupid phrase. I’ll never understand why guys think spending time apart after an argument is the best course of action. That just lets you brood over it more.

“I’d like to come unless you’re the one who wants to back off for a while. I like that we had this conversation. It wasn’t pleasant, but it got a lot of things into the air.”

“Oh.”

He really thought I was upset, that I wouldn’t want to see him for a while. I find my heart breaking a little at his lack of self-confidence. He really isn’t sure how people feel and second guesses everything they say. Poor kid, his mother really did a number on him. I can relate to that. I give a real smile now,

“I’d like to come to dinner.”


	11. Chapter 11

“You’re going to have to change,” Oliver seems apologetic.

I look down at my jeans and nice shirt with a frown, “Into what exactly?”

Oliver shrugs, “Anything but jeans. I’ll be in a different shirt and a tie.”

Christ. What is the point of getting dressed up in your own home? I tell Oliver to give me ten minutes and I hop out of the truck and dash through the rain into the garage. Once inside I take a deep breath before opening the door into the kitchen. I can see Amy and Rick sitting at the dining room table, a wine glass in front of her, a beer in front of him. I look somewhere above them,

“I’m changing for dinner then we are leaving for Oliver’s. I’ll be back by curfew.”

And I’m gone before either of them can speak. In my room I kick off my jeans and pull my wet shirt over my head and throw it in the hamper. I stand in front of my closet longer than I should, trying to decide what to wear. Eventually I settle on a dark green knit dress with three quarter sleeves. Fitted to the waist with just a little volume on the skirt. I pull on sheer black pantyhose and some cute ankle boots, then sit at my desk to put on makeup. Rick installed a cute oval mirror from a tag sale over the desk a few years ago. I use it to carefully apply powder, blush, eyeshadow, and eye liner. I ignore Amy as she comes into the room behind me and sits on the end of my bed, watching as I apply mascara. Once I’m done I apply a light pink lipstick and stare at myself for a long moment. I haven’t tried this much in a long time. I pull the elastic out of my hair and give the curly mass a thorough brushing, which helps to tame it from the damp. I pull it up into a high pony, the end of it landing just past my shoulders, I’ll need a haircut soon. Amy is still sitting when I stand from the desk and root around for a purse to put my small makeup bag, wallet, cellphone, and keys into it. When she realizes I’m going to leave without even acknowledging her she stands to block my way,

“He was just trying to help.”

I look at her now, her brown eyes are searching my face, trying to figure out what I’m thinking. She doesn’t like what she sees and she scowls,

“Honestly Maggie what do you expect him to do? He can’t ignore what happened and you’re showing the tendencies again. How can you even talk to Charlie after what he did?”

There is no way in hell I’m having this conversation now or ever. I take a step forward and Amy has to move or else I’d run into her. She grabs for my arm but I twist away and I’m down the hall and grabbing my jacket from the peg by the door and an umbrella.

“You look nice,”

Rick is at the fridge, a new beer in his hand. I glance down at the dress and shrug and pull on my jacket.

“Mags,”

I’m out of the door before he can say anything else.

 

Oliver and I are quiet as we drive to his house. It isn’t uncomfortable, but I can tell Oli doesn’t want to speak so I content myself to looking out the window. It’ll snow in a few weeks I realize and I let myself smile. I’ve always loved snow. Oliver’s hand finds mine and I turn to face him as he speaks,

“We’re here.”

And sure enough he is pulling into the driveway of a very nice brick colonial house. I choke back a laugh of disbelief, if this house has less than six bedrooms I’ll eat my own boot. There is a silver BMW in the two car garage, shiny and perfect. The lawn is perfectly manicured and there is a festive wreath on the front door. The inside of the garage is just as well kept. No clutter, no tools, no lawn equipment. I glance at Oliver to see he looks a little strained. We exit the truck and go inside through the side door.

“Shoes, jacket,” He murmurs and I numbly comply and my boots end up on a pretty little bamboo holder, my jacket in a coat closet by the door. The house is warm so I don’t mind too much. There is a small half bathroom directly in front of up and a rather large kitchen to our left. The hardwood floors gleam as we walk into it and a wave of delicious smell hits us and I realize the counters are covered in dishes. A small Hispanic woman is pulling a large turkey out of the oven to the right of us and Oliver gives her a smile when she sees us standing there.

“Mr. Oliver! You scare me.”

“Sorry Maria.” He looks at least a little sorry, “Maria this is Maggie. Maggie this is Maria.”

She woman smiles at me, her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness, “Hello Miss Maggie! Mr. Oliver tell me all about you.” She pulls me into a hug which I return despite my surprise. She holds me at arm’s length and looks me over before nodding in satisfaction and releasing me.

“We’re going to go see Dad,” Oliver says quietly and Maria shoos us away and goes back to cooking. I keep my mouth shut as Oliver takes me hand and leads me through a formal dining room set for three, tablecloth, candles and all. Next is a small den with a couch and loveseat framing a fireplace, then a hallway and a living room with a large leather sectional, love seat, two accent chairs, a coffee table, three side tables, and a huge flat screen TV hedged with built-in shelves. I can see the front lawn as we walk out of the living room and into the foyer which houses a large staircase and vaulted ceilings. We go through the foyer and into a sitting room with a love seat and desk with a computer and into another hallway. I see a bathroom and what looks like an office before Oliver pulls up short and knocks on a doorframe.

“Come in.”

Oliver enters ahead of me and then moves to the side and I see Mr. Stein for the first time. He is sitting at a large oak desk, long legs stretched out before him, feet clad in silky socks as he reads the paper. He looks up and I see his eyes behind his glasses are blue as he smiles at me. He removes the glasses and it is evident he is Oliver’s father. They have the same hair color, build, nose, and mouth.

“You must be Maggie! Mark Stein,” he stand and puts the paper down to reach for my hand. His grip is firm and professional. He is still smiling and I give him one in return. He releases my hand and moves back to look me over, “Well you certainly are good-looking aren’t you?”

I blink in surprise and Oliver inhales a shaky breath next to me. Mr. Stein is oblivious to his son and continues to speak to me, “When Oliver told me about you he didn’t say how pretty you are. Then again, Oli hardly deigns to speak with me as it is. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend until he told me he was going to your house for Thanksgiving last week. It was like pulling teeth to get him to invite you.”

I suddenly understand why Oliver considers his father ‘difficult’. Mr. Stein has yet to acknowledge Oliver is in the room, all of his focus on me. I give Oliver’s father a tight smile,

“Thank you for inviting me. Your house is very beautiful.”

Mr. Stein waves off my compliment, “Thank you. Been here for about 23 years. It’s a place to live.” He finally looks at Oliver, “You have a good lunch?” Oliver nods and Mr. Stein nods back in acceptance, “Maria said dinner is at seven sharp. Why don’t you go get changed into something more presentable and go watch some TV in the living room until dinner is ready?”

It isn’t a request. Oliver just nods again and takes my hand, leading me away.

“It was nice to meet you Maggie,”

I wave to Mr. Stein.

Oliver guides us back to the foyer and up the grand staircase. The second floor is carpeted for some reason and our feet sink into the plushness, our steps silent. We pass two bedrooms and a bathroom before Oliver stops at a door. He opens it and we enter his room.

It doesn’t look lived in. At all. No posters, no trophies, only a few books on the shelves and a few pictures on the corkboard above the desk. Oliver’s suitcases and a gym bag are by the bed. He goes to the closet and pulls out a new button up shirt, a deep blue with a tight white star like pattern and a grey tie. He goes to a suitcase and grabs a white t-shirt and begins to unbutton his shirt. I wander over to his desk and peer at the pictures. All three have his mother in them. She is close to my height and willowy like me. Her hair is a few shades lighter than mine though, closer to blonde and her eyes are the same gray green as Oliver’s. In the first picture she is in-between Oliver and his father as some sort of gathering, a lot of people in the background. Oliver looks like he is ten or so. The next is the same trio but Oliver is older and holding a swimming trophy, his hair damp. The last one is of Oliver and his mother. It had to be just before she killed herself because the trophy in this one is for the State Championship. Oliver’s face is absolutely beaming, so happy and his mother is grinning ear to ear, absolutely proud. She is thinner in this photo than the others, but she just looks a little older, not depressed.

“That one is from about a month before she died,”

I turn to see Oliver is shirtless, undershirt in hand, eyes on me. I lean against his desk,

“She is very pretty.”

“Yes she was.”

We stare at each other for a long moment until he turns away to finish dressing. He’s ready momentarily and takes my hand again to lead me back downstairs.

We watch TV on the leather couch for about an hour before Maria calls that dinner is ready. We hadn’t talked, just sat close and stared at the TV. When we walk into the dining room I’m impressed all over again. Rick and I can cook, but this meal looks straight out of Better Homes and Gardens. Mr. Stein enters behind us and takes his place at the head of the table. I sit to his left and Oliver to his left.

“This looks wonderful Maria. Once everything is cleaned up you can go home.”

Mr. Stein takes his seat and Maria flashes me a smile and heads back to the kitchen. I can’t help but wonder if she has a family at home waiting for her to get off work. Mr. Stein carves the turkey and holds out a large hand for my plate. I hand it over and he piles it high with meat and gives it back. He does the same for himself and Oliver. Mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, glazed carrots, and stuffing are passed around. I keep an eye on Oliver since he is unaturally subdued by his father’s presence, but he doesn’t look my way. Once out plates are full Mr. Stein holds out his hands again. I follow Oliver’s lead and take the one extended my way. Mr. Stein murmurs a prayer of thanks and I glance at Oliver, surprised, but his eyes are downcast. I look down myself until Mr. Stein says Amen and we begin to eat.

The food is heavenly and I plan to eat it all even though I had such a big lunch. We eat in a content silence for a few minutes until Mr. Stein takes a sip of wine Maria had poured him and looks at me. I sit up a little straighter at attention and he smiles,

“So Oliver tells me you’re a senior in high school.”

I take a sip of water, “Yes, sir.”

“You taking honors classes?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you play any sports?”

“Dad.” Oliver’s voice is quiet, pleading. His father looks at him in mild surprise,

“I’m just trying to get to know her Oliver since you refuse to tell me a thing about her,” he turns back to me, “So Maggie, do you play any sports?”

I glance at Oliver to see his neck and face turning red. Mr. Stein certainly knew how to push buttons. I look back at him, “No sir. I dance.”

“Oh, competitively?”

“I used to.”

“What changed?”

Oliver looks pained.

“I was in a car wreck. I broke my hip and femur. Competitive dance is too much of a strain.”

Mr. Stein looks appropriately sad, “How terrible.”

I shrug, “It’s fine,” and Oliver finally looks at me. He knows I’m lying but I paste on a smile and say to Mr. Stein, “I’ve started teaching dance classes this year. I plan on going to college to be a choreographer. I can still dance, just not for as long or as hard as I used to.”

Mr. Stein nods sagely, “An excellent alternative. I myself went to law school. I own a firm in town.”

I nod. I knew this.

“Oli was going to go to law school as well, but he decided to switch majors halfway through freshman year. To English of all things.” Mr. Stein looks like he couldn’t possibly fathom what one could do with an English degree.

“I’m getting my Master’s in Literature and History Dad. You know that. I’ll teach college level literature classes in whatever genre I decide to focus on next year.”

Oliver sounds and tired and resigned, like he’s had this conversations many times. Mr. Stein dismisses his son’s words with a wave of his fork,

“There is no guarantee you can even find a job.”

“I’ll be a TA first, then teach at a community college or private high school and work from there.”

Oliver’s voice is getting stronger and we make eye contact while his father just shakes his head like he can’t understand. Oliver and I hadn’t really talked about what he wanted to do after college, but looking at him now, I can see him teaching. Mr. Stein decides to focus on me again,

“Anyway, Maggie, tell me about your parents. What do they do?”

“My stepfather is a Sherriff. Rick Jones?” Mr. Stein nods that he know Rick, “And I’m not entirely sure what my mother does. I think she stays as home with her son, but he is close to school age now, so she may work.”

Mr. Stein’s forehead creases a little in confusion but he is too polite to ask what he wants to know. His reaction is mirrored on Oliver’s face and I know he had assumed my mother was dead since I never mention her. She may as well be for all that we talk. I haven’t seen her in years. Mr. Stein steers the conversation to safer topics and dinner continues on without too much drama. Once we’ve each had a slice of some very good pecan pie, Mr. Stein announces that he has some work to finish and tells me it was nice to meet me and to come for Christmas if I like. Oliver takes my hand and leads me upstairs to his room and shuts then locks the door behind us. He goes to his bed and collapses on it, arm over his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

I lean against his desk and wait. After a few minutes he raises his arm and lifts his head to look at me. I stare back at him and he sits up then comes to stand in front of me. He takes my hands and I look down at our intertwined fingers.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, forehead resting against mine, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that all night.”

I look up and smile. His kiss is soft and I sigh in contentment. His hands come up to frame my face and the kiss deepens a little. I put my hands lightly on his chest and his slide from my face down to my waist to pull me closer. He’s kissing me earnestly now, his tongue occasionally sliding against my lips. I’m more than happy to part them and Oliver wastes no time, deepening the kiss even further. I make a little sound of pleasure and Oliver breaks away, green eyes bright. I’m about to ask why he stopped when he pushes me back against the desk and lifts just a tad. I settle up on the desktop and pulls me to the edge, wedging himself between my knees.

Oh.

Oliver’s hands go back to my face and he’s kissing me, hard. I grip the front of his shirt and cling to him as he kisses me breathless. He and I have made out before. We’ve kissed plenty, but we’ve never gotten carried away. He’s slid hands against my thighs and breasts. He’s slid tank top straps down to get to my bare shoulders, but we’ve not gone farther. I don’t mind going slow and he didn’t seem to either, but the way he is kissing me now, I know the slowness if for my benefit. He wants me, very much, if I’m to judge by the rigidness of him pressed against me. I can feel a blush creeping up my neck at that realization. I’ve had sex before, but everything with Oliver is still new and awkward.

            He seems to sense my hesitation and he pulls away just a little, eyes finding mine. He silently asks me if I’m okay, if this is okay. I nod and pull him back, my tongue finding its way into his mouth. He gives a little groan and his hands go to my legs, fingers bunching the skirt of my dress to pull it higher. His hands are hot against the top of my thighs as grips the flesh there and I feel my head go light. My fingers find his tie and pull it loose then attack the buttons of his shirt of their own accord. Oliver pulls away to yank the shirt down his arms and comes back, hands sliding all the way up my thighs to grip my hips. I jerk back with a little squeak of surprise and he just smiles and presses his lips to my jaw and kisses his way down to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

Oh my.

            A shiver runs down my spine and I feel him smile against my neck as his thumbs rub against my hipbones. I’m finding it hard to make coherent thoughts as he continues, my hands fisting in his cotton undershirt. I realize suddenly I want it off and I tug at it. Oliver obliges and whips it off, impatient to get his hands back on me. I hold out my hands to stop him though, my eyes roaming the treat that is him shirtless. Oliver is slim, but the kickboxing classes have added a little bulk to his frame. Abs, muscular chest, nice biceps and just the smallest bit of blond hair that trails from his belly button down past the waistline of his khakis.

Oh boy.

            Oliver is practically preening at my evident admiration, a self-confidant smirk on his handsome face. I stand from the desk and close the space between us, hands going to his bare flesh, sliding up from his lower stomach to his shoulder then back down again, my nails scraping lightly. He shivers and gently grips my wrists, effectively stopping me. I pout but he just presses a kiss to my lips and turns us so the back of my knees hit the bed. He grips my wrists in one large hand, the other going to the zipper on my dress. I stiffen and he stops, eyes wide and alert. I swallow hard and pull on his grip on my wrists and he immediately lets go.

            “Mags?”

            His voice is a little husky and my face flushes, but with shame instead of lust,

“I…I have scars from the wreck. I-No one has…”

            Oliver’s eyes soften and he presses a kiss to my mouth,

            “That’s ok. It’s alright,” and his hand flattens against my back, zipper forgotten. He kisses me again and though it takes a few minutes, his mouth and clever hands bring me back to a lustful frame of mind.

            When he presses me back against the bed and pushes his way between my legs I have a moment of blind panic, but he simply stops and asks if I’m ok. I take a few seconds and nod. He quickly has me forgetting what I have been thinking again. He keeps a little space between our bodies, his strong arms braced under mine. At first I’m grateful for the space, but soon I want him pressed against me and I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him close. He hesitates, resisting me, but eventually gives in and suddenly he is flush to me. He shifts and I gasp as he rubs against the apex of my thighs. He rocks against me again and my fingers dig into his back. He raises his head just enough to let me see he is smiling in satisfaction and he begins to move, adjusting his movements to the noises I make.

Oh God.

            “Oliver,” it’s a choked whisper and suddenly his hand replaces his erection. I give a gasping moan and his other hand covers my mouth as I climax. His lips trade his hand on my mouth when it subsides, kissing me hard. My hands shake a little as I grab his face and kiss him for all I’m worth. His hips work against me again, seeking his own release. I lower my hand between us and he groans against my mouth as I touch him. He buries his face in my neck as I stroke him through his khakis and I curl the fingers of my other hand into his hair. It doesn’t take long until he is rocking against my hand and groaning, his breath hot my neck. He goes rigid a moment later and lets out a moan of ecstasy. I move my hand away shortly after but he doesn’t move. His heart is slamming against his ribs as I rub up and down his torso in soothing strokes.

            As he catches his breath I go over what’s just happened, seeing how I feel about it. I decide I liked it. I like how he hesitated, waiting to see if I was okay. The orgasm was certainly nice and I didn’t mind returning the favor. I didn’t feel like I was obligated, I had just wanted to. I smile to myself. I may not want to have sex yet, but I certainly don’t mind doing other things now. This wasn’t how I saw tonight going, but I can’t really complain.

            Oliver raises his head, cheeks a little pink with embarrassment,

            “I hadn’t really intended to go this far,” echoing my thoughts.

I smile, “Me either, but I think I’m okay with it.”

            He looks relieved and presses a kiss to my lips then moves gingerly off of me. He rummages through his suitcases and pulls out a t shirt, boxers and a pair of shorts. He stands and a stifle a grin at the evidence of what we’ve been doing.

            “Cover your eyes,” he murmurs and unbuckles his belt.

Feeling bold I ask, “What for?” and his eyes widen in surprise then he smiles,

“Alright.”

And pulls off his belt, then his socks before unzipping his khakis. I sit up attentively and he laughs, which makes me smile. He lets his khakis fall to his feet and he kicks them away, not clad only in his boxers.

“Last chance,” he says, but his eyes are a challenge and I bite my lip. I cover my face with my hands and Oliver chuckles and I hear the rustle of his boxers being taken off. Feeling a little like Pandora I inch my fingers apart to peek. Oliver is looking right at me and he is gloriously naked. I squeak in embarrassment and cover my eyes again. Long fingers slide around my wrists tug gently. I hesitantly let go and see he has slipped on the clean pair of boxers and shorts.

“This hardly seems fair, you seeing me naked and you still fully clothed.”

It’s easy to see my little peek has excited him. I brazenly slide the tip of my index finger against him and he sucks in a breath.

“I know it isn’t fair,” I murmur and I look into his eyes, “I’m just not ready for you to see them yet. I’m not okay with the way they make me look.”

Oliver moves to sit beside me, “Where are they?”

I point to my right thigh on the outside, then to two points on my lower abdomen where they had cut to repair my hip.

“So none up here?” He points to my shoulders, chest, and upper stomach.

I shake my head, “None that are as scary. Little ones from the glass that you can hardly see.”

Oliver looks pensive, “So…That means,” his hands go to my zipper and I stiffen but he unzips it anyway.

“Oliver,” I plea.

“Shh, it’s okay. Trust me.”

I can’t look at him has he tugs the top of my dress down and pulls my arms out of the sleeves. I’m frozen in fear. I can’t make myself speak, can’t make him stop. He takes the sleeves of my dress and ties them under my breasts, like a crop top and then takes his hands away.

“Maggie, look.” Oliver’s voice is gentle, soothing. I look down and it takes me a second but I realize what he’s done. The only parts of me visible are my chest and arms. “See,” he murmurs, “No scars.”

I swallow hard then give him a shaky smile. He rests his forehead against mine for a second then unties the sleeves to put my arms back in them. I glance at his face and he looks suddenly angry.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Oliver looks up in confusion and his widen in disbelief. He finishes putting me to rights and then takes my face in his hands,

“Don’t you ever apologize for what aren’t ready for. Ever. I only wanted to show you what we can work towards in the future, if you want to. I pushed more than I should and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how anxious it would make you. And I’m not mad. Not at you.”

I wait for him to explain but he shuts his mouth and clenches his jaw. I grip his wrist and he looks at me again,

“I hate him. God I hate him so much.”

For an awkward second I think he means his father and then I realize he means Charlie.

“He did this.”

He’s right of course. I’m scared of Oliver and what we’ll eventually do and how it will change him and us. I’m scared to let myself be vulnerable, to be laid bare before him. And I know it is irrational. I was fine with him touching me with my clothes on. Fine with touching him back, but no clothes and I panic.

“What did he do to you?”

We’re hitting dangerous territory.

“Nothing. It’s the scars.”

“You were scared,”

Shit. He had me there.

“How many times did he force you?”

Fuck.

I pull away from his hands, “He didn’t force me.” It is technically the truth. I had wanted it back then. Anything to make him happy.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I was willing. I just…I should have waited. I gave myself too quickly, too often. I just wanted to make him happy. I wanted him to want me.”

There. The truth. It’s as honest as I can be. Oliver is staring at me but I can see it making sense to him. That I had lost my virginity too soon, that I was simply jaded and now knew better.

“If I ever push you,”

“You won’t. You’re very conscious of my body language. I appreciate it.”

Oliver scowls, “I wish it had been anyone but him.”

“Because?”

“Because everything I want to do to you he has already done.”

I give an indignant snort, “God that is such a caveman thing to say. What an asshole.”

Oliver has the sense to look contrite, “I just don’t want to think about him.”

“So don’t. I would hope that you would focus on me writhing beneath you, not thinking about some guy.”

Oliver cocks an eyebrow, “Writhing huh?”

I raise a finger, “Oh no you don’t,” but he surges forward, pressing me back against the bed, mouth finding my neck as his fingers dig into my ribs. I squeal loudly and try to push him off but he is too strong. I struggle as he tickles me, squawking and shrieking. The bedroom door opens and Oliver jerks away from me as his father stares at us from the doorway. I’m red faced and panting and Oliver is only wearing shorts. Mr. Stein’s steely blue eyes find Oliver’s and I can see the displeasure,

“This door is to remain open when you have people over.”

When he has females over.

“What you do at that college is your business, but that won’t be happening here. Do you understand?”

Oliver nods jerkily, “Yes sir.”

“You’re twenty years old, I expect you to be able to keep your hands to yourself.”

And then he was gone, the door left open.

Oliver pulls on his shirt and stares at the floor. I find myself hating his father. Hating his condescension and macho attitude.

“Oli,”

“I should take you home.”

All of the sex and happiness gone from his voice.

“All right.”

He stands and puts on some sneakers then hold out a hand. I take it and he takes me back downstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

For the next month we don’t talk about what we learned at Thanksgiving. It’s a relief honestly. It means Oliver has accepted the half-truths I told him. Once he is back at school, Oliver’s mood lifts and he acts like his usual self again. He’s a little more open, telling me about his day and little things about himself. We don’t do anything more sexual than kissing. Oliver pulls away before we can go any further.

We decide to see each other on Christmas Eve since he has to travel to West Virginia to see his mother’s family for Christmas. Rick, Amy, and I just did Christmas at our house just like Thanksgiving. Rick is working tonight so he can have Christmas off so I meet Oliver at the end of the driveway and we exchange gifts at the diner that went to the night we met again. I’ve gotten him two new books, a giant Reese’s peanut butter cup, and a watch. He puts on the watch immediately. He slides two gifts across the table and I open the larger of the two first, a book and gift card to a store in town that sells dance clothes. The smaller gift is a velvet box. I open it slowly to find a pair of small sapphire studs that I know have cost a fortune set in rose gold.

“How much were these?” I ask quietly and Oliver frowns,

“What does it matter? I have a job you know.” And he does, lifeguarding at the college. But this isn’t a lifeguarding money type of gift. “All that matters is that I saw them and they immediately made me think of you so I bought them. You don’t like them?”

“I do.”

“Then put them on.”

I hesitate then pull them out of the box and put them in. I take out my phone and switch the camera to front facing. They suit me. I’m olive in complexion and the coloring is perfect.

“I do like them Oli, thank you.”

After we have lunch we drive back to the house in a comfortable silence. The last month has been nice. Low key and without any expectations. I smile to myself and unbuckle my seatbelt to slide closer to Oliver. I put on the middle lap belt and rest my head on his shoulder. I feel his lips on the top of my head and I snuggle closer, utterly content. I close my eyes, stomach fool and body lulled by the blasting heat and sway of the cab.

“Who is that?”

My eyes pop open and I realize we are home. There is a Jeep parked next to the curb and a lone figure is inside.

Shit.shit.shit.shit.

“Oliver,” but he’s slamming the truck into park, having realized who his inside the Jeep.

“Stay here,” he says and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Wait-”

“Stay _here_ Maggie,” and he opens the door, a blast of snowy air hitting my face before he is out. He slams the door shut and approaches the Jeep. The driver’s side door opens and Charlie slides out, a box in his hand. Oliver’s shoulders are tense as he talks to his former best friend. Charlie looks my way and Oliver snaps his fingers in front of his face to get his attention. Charlie nods at something Oliver says and Oli rubs his face before replying. Charlie holds out the box and gestures to me and Oliver shakes his head. He gestures again, insistent and Oliver snatches the box away and points for Charlie to get back into his Jeep. Charlie complies and Oliver waits as he puts the vehicle in gear and drives away, past the truck I’m currently in. Charlie’s blue eyes find mine but he doesn’t look angry, just sad. I’m glad when he’s out of sight. I turn the truck off and slide out of the truck, my presents in hand.

“What did he want?”

Oliver is standing at the end of the driveway staring at the snowy ground.

“He wanted to give you a present.” He holds up the box in his hand.

“Oh. Why?”

“He said he saw it and immediately thought of you.” Oliver’s voice is very level. He hands me the box. I hand him the book and box from the earrings and unwrap the big red bow. I open the box and just stare. It’s a scarf. I can see the tag. Pashmina 100% sustainable cashmere. It’s a lovely deep burgundy that would look great on me. I do my best not to react at all but something must have crossed my face because Oliver rips the box from my hands and shoves my book and earrings box at me then starts off towards the truck.

“Oliver!”

He ignores me and opens the driver’s side door and throws the scarf inside then turns on me,

“Why did he give you that?”

I take a step back, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I stare at him incredulously, “I’m not!” For once. “I haven’t seen Charlie since the night I got drunk.”

Oliver doesn’t believe me, I can see it in his eyes. Even though I know I have no right I get pissed off. Of all the times for him to accuse me of lying, he manages to do it when I’m being 100% honest.

“Oh fuck you,” I snarl and turn on my heel to leave. Oliver’s large hand grips my upper arm, “Let go of me.”

“If you haven’t been talking to him then why was he here when Rick wasn’t?”

I jerk out of his grip, “Knowing Charlie he probably drove by a few times to make sure Rick was at work. He used to do it when we dated. I haven’t talked to him. I told you I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Oliver is fuming and I know he is angrier with Charlie than me, but he is still upset I like the gift Charlie brought.

“It’s just a scarf Oli. It’s a fancy scarf that doesn’t mean anything.”

“You liked it,” his voice is accusatory.

“Am I wearing it?”

“No.”

“Exactly. I’m wearing what I like. I don’t give two shits about some scarf. It is pretty but that is it.”

Oliver looks dubious so I move around him and open the truck door and fetch out the scarf and throw it on the ground. I stomp it into the snow, effectively ruining the cashmere.

“There. Do you believe me now?”

Oliver is staring at the ruined scarf, his face unreadable. I put my hands on either side of his face,

“I don’t want anything to do with him alright? I want you and only you. Even when you are a pig headed jerk.”

He smiles slightly and I let out a sigh of relief. We talk for a few more minutes, then he leaves, taking the ruined scarf with him. I go back inside and put my gifts upstairs before grabbing the cordless phone and dialing a number I still know by heart.

“Mags?”

A small, traitorous clench in my stomach, “Yeah Charlie it’s me.”

“Did he give you my gift?”

“He did.”

“Did you like it? I thought the color was perfect.”

“It was a nice gift, but I asked Oliver to throw it away.”

A long silence, “Would you have kept it if he hadn’t been there?” I hesitate and that’s all he needs, “I miss you Mags.”

“Stop. I’m calling to tell you not to come here again, ever. If you come again I’ll call the police. I’m serious Charlie.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I have a restraining order against you.”

“No, Rick has a restraining order. I remember you calling me crying about it after the wreck and he found you and took the phone away.”

He isn’t lying and I hate him for it.

“That was over a year ago Charlie. It is different now. I know better.”

“Do you love him?”

“I like him and I’d appreciate it if you’d stay away. I’ve moved on.”

“Liar. You still love me and you know I love you.”

“You like having me under your thumb.”

Another long silence, “I’m different now.”

I laughed, “Now who’s the liar?”

“I mean it Mags.”

“You’ve changed in two months?”

“I’m trying to.”

“And what brought on this sudden transformation?”

“You getting with Stein. It made me realize I could lose you, actually lose you.”

“I’m not yours to lose Charlie.” And I hang up.


	14. Chapter 14

For the next two months I live in fear that Charlie will show up at my house again but he never does. Oliver doesn’t bring up the Christmas incident and I decided not to either. We both go back to school full time and have less and less time together. The time we do get is wonderful. We go to lunch and do homework together and watch movies and there isn’t any pressure. It’s casual and just perfect. Oliver still refuses to move forward in the bedroom department and I find myself getting a little impatient. In the two months or so since Thanksgiving we haven’t gotten each other off once. I find myself wondering if it is more of a problem on his end then mine. If knowing Charlie was with me first really is a problem. I push for more intimacy in the beginning of February, instigating make out sessions that end up horizontal and full of heavy breathing. I finally get Oliver to admit that it is Charlie that is the problem that every time he starts to go further he thinks of him and finds he can’t keep going. I tell him he is being a jackass and proceed to pleasure him with my hand. Once he is done I ask if he’s thought about Charlie once and he shakes his head. I give him a ‘you see?’ look and he smiles. Things go a little better after that. We agree no sex, but we start to explore other avenues, all with our hands, my clothing on, Oliver in boxers.

I find myself less and less self-conscious with my body and decide to surprise Oliver for Valentine’s Day. I call Ali and tell her my plan, to which she immediately a fan. I tell Oliver to come to my house for Valentine’s Day. I may have neglected to tell him that Rick was at work. Technically Oliver isn’t allowed over, but Rick has been relaxing on his rules since he outed me to Oli. Not that he’d be okay with Oliver and me alone in a house, but I was less worried than normal.

When Oliver calls to say he is on the way I tell him to park around the corner and walk. He asks why but does as I say. When I step outside he is standing in the driveway, wrapped present in hand,

“Rick isn’t home.”

It isn’t a question but I shake my head anyway. Oliver looks apprehensive,

“I don’t know Mags,”

“You sure?” I open the fluffy robe I’m wearing to reveal lacy see through bra, high waist underwear and opaque black tights. Ali may or may not have helped me pick it out. It covers all of my bigger scars so long as I keep the stockings and panties on. The entire ensemble is dark blue satin and lace. It is absolutely freezing outside and you can tell I’m cold. Oliver notices, his eyes a little lower than my head.

“Maggie you’re killing me,” but he takes a few steps towards me, “I thought you wanted to wait.” He’s even closer, “We agreed to wait.”

I nod, “No sex.”

“If you let me at you like that there will be.”

A clench below my navel. I close the robe, “Alright then. No lingerie. Come inside, it’s freezing.”

He follows me inside and to my room but sits at my desk instead of on the bed with me. He shrugs off his jacket and scarf and I cross my legs, the robe falling open to reveal a slice of leg. Oliver is careful to look away. Feeling risky I undo the sash and let the rob fall. Oliver stiffens but I just smile and act like I’m not in revealing clothes.

“So you got me a present?”

He nods and I get up and saunter over. Much to his alarm I sit in his lap and take the gift. His eyes are devouring me as I unwrap the present and look inside. A new book I’ve been meaning to buy, a gift card to Old Navy, and tickets to see Shaping Sound Dance Co. later in February.

“Oh my god.” I glanced at his face and then back to the tickets, “Oh my god!”

“You said you loved them,” Oliver was grinning.

I threw the gifts on the ground and took his face in my hands and kissed him hard. When I finally let him come up for air he is laughing,

“I’m glad you like it. Do I get a present as well or are you wearing it?” His hand slides from my shoulder to my lower back and I shiver. In retaliation I turn and straddle him, watching as his pupils widen in response, and reach around him to grab the concert tickets on my desk,

“Here you go,”

“Tickets to see Brand New. Cool.” I reach around him again to grab the bag that came with the tickets. He opens it slowly. Inside are backstage passes, the newest cd, a t-shirt, and a voucher for a professional photograph.

“Holy shit.” He looks up at me in disbelief and I smile.

“You said you loved them.”

I’m sure he only intended to kiss me but I deepen the kiss and press against him. He lifts me and carries me to the bed to lay me down he kicks off his shoes and socks then pulls his sweater over his head.

“Shirt,” I murmur and he obeys. “Pants,” I say next and he hesitates. “Pants,” I say more forcefully and he sighs but does as I say. It’s obvious he’s ready. When he takes his spot between my legs his erection presses against my lower stomach. We make out for a while, Oliver keeping still against me. Eventually he loosens up and his lips travel to my neck, then my shoulder, only to fasten to my breast, his mouth hot through the lace. I whimper and he goes still. I knot my fingers in his hair,

“Don’t stop,” and he shudders, resuming his attentions.

I swear I nearly made it just by his mouth on my breast alone. I move against him restlessly but he only presses a hand to my hips, making them still. He pulls the strap of the bra down and he trails kisses across the newly exposed flesh. I moan has his mouth again finds my breast, bare now, and my hips move of their own accord. The hand on my hips slips further up to the waistband of the panties but I’m too into what is mouth is doing to feel trepidation. His hand lingers for a moment, but when I don’t tense up he slips beneath the satin and suddenly we both go rigid. Me in pleasure, him in an effort to have self-control. I can’t even feel self-conscious as his fingers begin to move. All I know is heat and desire. It takes only a minute and I’m clinging to him, nails digging into his flesh. When I’m done he slowly retracts his hand, his fingers slick.

“Maggie,” his voice is hoarse and I can tell he is longing to rip the panties off, to take me now. Even in the afterglow of an orgasm I have enough sense to realize I don’t want to have sex, that neither of us have protection. I sit up and he sits up with me. I move him so he is standing by the bed and I reach for the waistband of his boxers,

“How many girls have you been with?”

“Two,” he is breathless.

“How many had they been with?”

“They were virgins. High school and freshman year at college. No one in a year.”

I take a moment to think about if he is lying to be or not. I feel almost guilty for it, but he wouldn’t be the first guy to lie to a girl to get sucked off. I choose to believe him.

“You tell me before,” I demand and he nods. I pull his boxers down and I sheath my teeth and take him in my mouth. He gets a little weak kneed but recovers. His hands find my hair and he sets a slow but deep rhythm. It’s not long until he is pulling away sharply but I keep a hand on him to help him finish. When he is done I clean up then turn back to him only to have him kiss me deeply. Some guys won’t do that, but Oliver doesn’t seem to mind the taste of himself at all.

“You need to put on some clothes,” he murmurs against my lips and I laugh,

“Why?”

He takes my hand and presses it to him. How on earth was he getting ready again? I hastily pull away and but my bra to right before pulling on a t-shirt. I undo the garter belt and roll down my stockings. Oliver’s eyes find my biggest scar easily and he sits on the bed. It’s hard not to flinch away from his stare. I start to pull of the high waist panties and Oliver makes a strangled noise and I look up to see is turned away. I trade the satin for cotton and pull on a pair of sophie shorts. I trail my fingers over his bare shoulder and he turns back. Still naked he angles me so he can see the scar that runs along my femur where they put the metal rod in. He presses his mouth gently to it and my fingers knot in his hair in a way I’m sure is painful but I can’t help it. The fact that he is touching my biggest mistake is almost too much for me to take. He carefully untangles my fingers and presses his mouth to each one then trails kisses from my wrists to elbows, making me shiver.

“Maggie,” his voice is soft as he looks up at me, green eyes dark.

“Mhmm?” I run my fingers through his hair and his eyelids flutter. I smile and do it again.

“I love you.”

I’m not smiling anymore. I step out of his reach and fear crosses his face. I’m shaking my head in disbelief when the doorbell rings. My head whips to my open door and I hiss to Oliver,

“Get dressed, now!”

He tries to grab me as I head down the hall, but I flinch away. His face shutters and he goes to his clothes. I make sure he is getting dressed before I go. I do my best to block out the three word bombshell he has dropped on me. I shudder all over then open the door,

“Hello baby.”


End file.
